The elements of dramatic criticism: Containing an Analysis of the Stage ...

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T H S

ELEMENTS

O F

DRAMATIC CRITICISM.

CONTAINIXe

An Jnahi/is oi lilt STAGE under the following Hend*,

TRAGEDY, IC PANTOMIME,

TRAGI-COMEDY.li xnd

COMEDY, )( FARCE.

With a Sketch of the Edbcatiom

Of the Greek and Rohan ApTORit

Condu^g wi4 '

Some GsNEEAL Instructions

For liicceedipg

In the ART of ACTING.

By W I L L I A M C O O K E, ^ /; ■
Of the Middle Temple. ^ ■'■ -

Singula fuafiu twum tfntal fftiita ittentem,

Bor. * An. FoM.

LONDON:

Frintedibi G. Kbakilt, ui Fleet-fircct; and G. RoiiNfSH^
in PatfT.AoiUr.Kiw. 1775.

) ■

' ' « V

><^ " «.»— ^

rK^m- f«iM«

rt •

T O

DAVID GARRICK,Efqj

« »

Sir,

XJl

S every fubjefl: which
leads to the further
elucidation of the drama, ne-
ceflarily claims the protec-
tion of its 2h\t& praSfkal com^
mentator^ I (hall make no
apology for infcribing this

book to you.

hi

It

V

>*

DEDICATION.

r

It would be a tirefome
truth, to detain you here with
a repetition of thofe praifes,
which your abilities have de-

m^e4 frppj the public j ab-
ftraGed from this, I am fatif-
fied I could derive no credit,
as a writer, from the at-
tenapt ; every avenue to no?
velty on this fubjefl: being fo
juftly anticipated. Thus
narrowed in the walk of a
dedicator— -I have only to
offer you my admiration^
which, though you have
long fince had it from me in
the fliout of the public, per-
mit me, to repeat it more

par-

w

DEDICATION.

particularly here, by fiib«
fcribing myfelf,

w

Much your admirer,
and moft obedient

■*.

humble fervanty

WILLIAM COOKE

■ - ^

.1.

>

*

9

INTRODUCTION.

T N an age, when, with every fpecies
of polite literature, the elements
of the drama feem to be fo univerfally
underilood, any additional elucida-
tion on the fufcjed may appear vague,
and unncceflary. Dramatic writing,
together with dramatic criticifm, are
not as formerly regulated by the few
of many ages, who drew their know-
ledge from much reading, and ob-
fervation. — they now afTume a wider
domain : Modem poets and modern
critics^ ftart up in fuch abundance,
and come fitted for thefe offices fo
entirely By the light of natttre^ that
a perfon who decided upon our dra-
matic

ii INTRODUCTION.

tnatic knowledge by the catalogcre
oC Qur dcatnadc wwks, mufi not only
turn from antiquity with contempt,
but pronounce us at this day, the
mod polifhed, and informed people
-in this department, of any upon
earth.

But there are periods in arts, that
when they are moft followed, they
are Icaft underftood. This happens to
be, at prefent, the cafe of our dfama ;
though feemmgly furrounded with fb
many guardians, thefe very guardians
have produced two forts of enemies,
who have perhaps degraded ix. much
below any frtuation fince its eflabli/h-
mcnt in this country. The firft —
a feeble •— commdn-piace morality,
wWch has neither knbwledge, charac-
ter, or genius, for its fupport ; — '• the
fecond, a raw unprincipled criticifm,
the fpawft of fo fiimfy a parent. Hence
rules are dcfpifed, becaufe not fludied ;

ranks

INTRODUCTIOR m

lanks confounded, becaufenot known ;
anH great mailers infulted throu^ an
indolence, of incapacity of receiving
their inftriK^ions.

To refcuc the mifguided part of

the public from fuch /iule law-givers,
and fettle the knowledge of the ftage
on fomc more refpedable, and per-
imanent foui^ation, has been my at-
tempt in the following fhects ; where-
in I have endeavoured to go through
a regular analyfis of the drama,
from its nobleft and moft inftrudive
heights, to its humbleft and moft ir-
regular walks; — a fubjed, however
fartly treated of by fome of the
ableft, and oldeft critics in moft lan-
guages, yet never (at Icaft in the
courfe of my reading, or enquiries)
given in this regular order.

At the fame time, that I claim
the novelty of this attempt, the af-

fiftance

iv INTRODUCTION.

jQftaoce of many of thofe cridcs, is
my greateft boaft ; as vain would be
my tafk, and impcrfe<9: my labours,
did I prefume fingly on the credit of
my abilities, in deciding on points
which have tiaken up (o much of the
joint refear ches of the learned. I
am fatisfied with working after fuch
great originals, happy, if I am able
to arrange their matter with" pre-
cifipn, conned their obfervations
with judgement, and in giving a
'wholenefs to the dcfign, not deftroy
the vigour of its component parts,

This general confeilipn then, I
hope will preclude me the vanity of a
Dictator, whilft it will refcue me
from the charader of a plagiary ;
particularly, when I previoully de-
clare, that thofe paflages which I
have made ufe of from other au-

thors,

I

INTRODUGTION. v

w • • •

diors, arid which I have not indivi-
dually reftored, were only done to
avoid a multiplicity of references,
whichj in my opinion, too often <//-
vide^ rather than aiHil the. attention'
of ; the reader. Pn fliort, I have
endeavoured with no inconKiderable'
attention, .and induflry, to form a
woiic Gompoftd of fuch principles
as may ht thought vi^ell arranged^'
and- properly ^igefted J andin. thii
SKW'i-i4ifeful and entertaimng. If I
ihould be difappointed, I fhall not
howeveir, have that fuperftition for
my authorities; as to take the whole
&u]t upon : myielf, nor lb much
complaifance for myfelf, as not to
attribute ibmething to my own de-
fcfts.

The latter part of this work,
" InftruBums for fucceeding in the
art of aSiingy* -^didivoji a greater

(hare

i

I

vi INTRODUCTION.

{hare of indulgence from the pub-
lic, as in this 1 ftand entirely akne ;
merely from not having {uch aflift-
ance as I could xviSn to avail vtiyStM

of ; moft writers upon this fubged,
liaving. been too ramblii^^ or tcio
impradicabletheQrifts,to afford u&ful
uifbrudions. The de^e, hewevcfj;
Qf perfi?<^ng g work <>& the dramai'^w
*S^ilducted. me; to extend; it mifb^tbit
^art ; as i it n^6d ' ^pt^ beinil^e^i on:
hece^ h^w.intifnateljrrthe buii&Ws/Jof
the poet^ and ^ddr, ihiould ib^ • tuxm-
n^dedy atid how much it ^ependi^
on the abilities c^ the ladfirv V^
give petftmfim . and . i eclat' to tiie
forment

\

. ,i

To conclude. — I have beftowed
as much care, and obiervation, on
the feverali parts of this work, 1 as
an avocation from greater puHuitg
would permit ^ my objed beibg to

convince

INTRODUCTION, vii

con^nce the public, that neither the
diEiatorial air, of moft of our modern
dramatiils, nor the falfe tafle which
gives them a temporary palmy are
indications of real genius, or a fun->-
damental knowledge of their art.
Let me be permitted to fay, at the
iame time, I have a greater objed
in my view,— a wi{h to be foremoft,
4n recovering the theatre from fuch
ufurperSy and reftoring it to' that
relpeAable charafter it originally
poflefTed -— a Public School of
Virtue, and of Manners.

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T A B L E

O F T H E

.»

CONTENTS.

C H A P. I. Page

yi SKETCH of the qr'igtn of the an-
tient drama ■ - • - . j

CHAP. II.

Of the prologue^ epifode^ exode and chorus 6

r t

1 ....

C H A P. III.

Of the verfe^ rmfation, andmujtc - i^

CHAP. IV.

Of the majks of the antients . , - 17

a C H A Fi.

«k* «

•

»

CONTENTS,

C H A P. V. Page

On the divijion of theatrical declamation be^
tween t^doo aBors, one of ivhom pronoun-
ced, whiljl the other gejiiculated - 23

CHAP, vi, " '

A definition of tragedy. - - 30

CHAP. VII.

OffaiU - - - 34

CHAP. VIII,

Of manners -~ - - 47

CHAP. IX.

Of fent intents - - - ^4.

CHAP. X,

Of diStion •> r - JO

CHAP. XI.

Of the three unities — aSliony time and place 84

€ H A P. XII.

Of fome inferior ruhs proper to be obfervcd
in tragedy - - 106

C HA P. -XIII.

(y* tragic fubjeSis affeSling us more than
tbofe of cdntedy - '- - 113

CHAP.

J

CONTENT S.

CHAP. XIV. Page

Of iragi-comedy - * • i x 8

C H A p. XV.

Of the origin and pro^refs of ant tent comedy 122

CHAP, xvr.

Of the laws 'of 'comedy ^ ' i tJR

X ^ • ^ ...

CHAP. XVII.

«

Of fentitnental comedy - - 141

CHAP. XVIIL

T'hat the charaBers of comedy are far from
being as yet exhaufled - - 151

' CHAP. XIX.

Whether tragedy y oj- comedy be the more
difficult to write - . - _ 1 57.

f » . . - . , ^

,. CHAP. XX. '. '

Of pantomime - - - 162"

CHAP. XXI.

Of farce - - - 170

C H A P. XXII.

Afketch of the education of the Greek and
Roman aStors » - - 172

C H A P.

• -^ ' **

C 0- N- T E- J^' T, &. ■

- C H A P, .XXIH, Page

^enfral infiritSlions for fwceeding j^^^ - -^
of aSling. - - ^ - 178

C H A P. XXIV.. . .

Continuation of the fame fubjeSl - 1 94

7- -

- T,

CHAP. XXY- .

Qonclufion. ^ - - 208

ERRATA.

» - • -,. - . • .

Page I4» line the ^9 {ot prwounciation xt9^ proHunciati^n^
Page 61 > line 23, for tf00/^er read iiif.
Page 1 14, line 2i» fbr the read i&r.
Page I23» line 24, dele but. .
Page 1689 line 69 fot pantermmer ttnA fantomime^
Page 190, line the hSi, dele tb^/t.

r •

E L E M E N T S

O F

DRAMATIC CRITICISM.

CHAPTER L

AJketcb of the origin of the antient tifOma*

|*]!feI5^3 S wc (hall have frequent ocwfioii

to make comparative views> and
^ . . allulions to the antient Drama^ it
will be neceflary for us to preface
diis work with a general view of it, in ordef
that thofe who are not converfant in thld
branch of antient hiftory^ may be the better
enabled to judge of the propriety, or impro-
priety of our obfervations*

Father Brumoy, and many other authors^
have gone into a variety of accounts refpedt*
ing the origin of the Drama, moil; of which

B carry

I 2 ]

^p€sy4i» imrks of fiidi iabk and uneertsMtf:
Hwt «rc cahAot follow them with any degree
ftf authority ; all authors, however, agree that^
tragedy in Greece was derived from the
hymns of Bacchus which were fung, in parts^
by a^choms ; Ttfeis raraF facrifice became, in
nme, a folemn feafl, and affumed all the
j)omp of a religious ceremony ; poets were
employed by the magiftratetocompafe hymns,
or fongs for the occafion> whilft the prize,
^Wbk^ «^5 tioracc intimates was fcarcc worth
contending for, being no more than a goat-
Ikin of wine) was given to the happy poet»
who acquitted hiteifelf.beft tn the talk af-
figned him*

•"iilifewa-s'pcrhaps AcpiKTodwhen tliel^s
firft pointed out the tragic path, who exhi-
4Mtik^4iis^mde|)er{aninairacesi]i a cdirt, and be~^
"fmeattd the faces of (hx^ n&orswith the l^es
^of wine> (xFobaidy to di%uife their perigns,
:«»kd give them the ^appraranbi of thofe whom
idney reprefented. To the& . ihnovattona be
^fitrodJuded a new ^peribnage, wiho relieved tbe
lehorus, by reciting part of fome weU^kaown
•blftory, or faWe^ which gave time for tflacm
to reft : all that the aftor repeat)ed, between
. the IfcmgB of the chorus, was called an epi-
-fode ; confifting, ofteo^ of disScrcixt adven-
: tures, which bad no ooone^tion iRrith eadx

.; . others

I 3 ]
Other J thus the chorus, or fong, which was
at 6rft the only, and afterwards the principal
performance, became gradually, and infcn*
libly, but an inconfiderable, though, as we
fiball (ee hereafter, a necefiaty and ornamental
part of the drama.

From this time, we may imagine, the ac*
tor, or reciter was more attended to than the
chorus I however his part was executed, it
had the charms of novelty to recommend it,
and quickly obfcured the luftre of the chorus,
whoie fongs were now of a different nature,
inibmuch, that the original fubjed of them,
the praife of Bacchus ^ was, by degrees, either
Sightly mentioned, or forgotten • The prieflsi
who, we may fuppofe, far a long time pre-
fided x>ver the whole^ grew alarmed at this
open contempt of the deity, and unanimoufly
exclaimed againft it, as a profanation of thofe
rites which they were bound to protcdt.

From the days of Thefpis, to thofe of &{^
chylus, all is doubt, conjedture, and. obfcu-
rity ; 'tis true, we have the names of manj^
intermediate dramatifts handed down to u$>
particularly a fcholar of Thefpis, named Phry-
nicus, who, it is faid, wrote nine tragedies^
for one of which he was fined fifty drach-
mas, becaufe it was too deep a,nd aff^fting ;
but what that tragedy was, or thofe of his

B 2 coterai-^

( 4 ]

cotcmporarics, and immediate fucceflbrs, wc .
have no Accounts, (their works being loft)
that can be depended oh with any degree of
certainty, or precifijbn, •

.'Thus much, however, is probable, thai
tragedy, during the lives of thefe writers,
made but a flow progrcfs, and received very
little, or perhaps no improvenlent ; when, at
length, the great iEfchylus arofe, who, from.

this rude and indigefted chaos, created, as it
were, a new world, in the dramatic fyftem ;
He it was that introduced dialogue^ that moft
cflential part of tragedy, which, by the addi-
tion of a fecond perfonage, threw the whole
fable into adlibn, and reftored the chorus tm
its antient dignity. ->

^fchylus did not ftop here ; refolving that
no external ornaments fhould be wan ting to ren ^
der thijs his favourite child univerfally amiable,
he cloathed her in the moft fplendid habit, and
beftowed on her every thing that art could pro-^
cure to heighten, or improve her charms ; a^
he vjashimfelf both author, a<ftor, and mana-
ger, he took upon him the whole condudl of
the drama, and did not negleft the leaft part
pf it ; he improved the fcenery and decora-
tions, brought his adors into a regular and
well conftrudled theatre, raifed his heroes
on- the cothurnus, or buikin. Invented the

mafquci.

f J J

mafques, and introduced ipl^did habits with
long trains, which gave an air of majefly and
dignity to the. performers.

From this Wa then, we are to confider tra-
gedy as an elegant and noble ftru£ture, built
according to the rules of art, iymmetry, and
proportion ; whofc every part was in itfHf
fair, firm, and compact, and at the fame tim^
contributed to the beauty, ufefulnefs, and
duration of the whole edifice. Sophocles
and Euripides carefully fludied the plan laid
down by iEfchylus, and by their fuperior ge-
nius and judgement, improved it, in a fhort
time, to its higheft ftate of perfe^ioh, from
which it gradually declined to the introdudioA
of the Roman drama.

•« *.

B 3 C H A F:

I « I

C H A p. n.

HAVING thus taken a curfory review of
the origin, and cftablifhtoent of the*an*
tient drama, we fliall next fpeak of its parts,
t<^ich confifted of a beginning, a middle, and
an end J or, in the words of Ariftotle, the pro-
logue, the epifode^ and exode. Horace has fur-
ther told us, there fliould be five a6ls ; *^ Neve

pinor^ neu^t'-^ quinto produ^ior a^u i' but it
does not from thence follow, that it always was
fo, as the Greek tragedies carry a convincing,
proof, that no fuch thing was ever thought of
by them; feveral critics have indeed difcovercd
an oiice for the chorusji which the poet ne-
ver afligned them, by making thofe intervals
which were fupplied by the fongs, aSls — tho*
it is evident, that the bufinefs of the chorus
was^ on the other hand, to prevent that va-
cancy in the drama, which thq divifion of
afts muft neceflarily produce,

Thp prdogu$ of ahtient tragedy contains
all thoCc cirpumftanccs which are neceflary to
be known, for the better underftanding and

comprchcniion of the whoje drama i as the

place

C 7 ]

\ place 6f tbe fcenc^ die time wEen the ^bft
coramences^ die names tnd chara^rsiof the
.peribns concerned* togethcir with fiich. ft
view of the plot, as might awaken the cui-
yaAty of tbe i^edator, withovit letting him
too far iata the defign and ccmdod of it. ;
r ^. Thei^^l^ is ^1 diat part of the tragedy
which is httwcea the fpngs, or intermedss fl£
iht chorus ^. this anfwers to our fecond^ thir^
tind fourth ads, and comprehends all the
intrigue, or plot to the cataftrophe, which,
^n the heft antient writers, is not niade tiH
•after the laft fong of the chorus j the con^
du6t and difpoHtion of the epifbde, may be
iconfidered as the fureft teft of the poet's abl-^
iitics, as it generally determines the merit,

and decides the fate of the drama : here aH

' the art of the writer is neceffary to ftop the

too btherwife rapid progrefs of the fablej by

the intervention of fomc new circumftance,
that involves the perfons concerned in frefli
difficulties, awakens the attention of the
fpedators, and leads them, as it were, infen*
'fibly, to the moft natural conclufion, and un-
ravelling of the whole.

The exode is all that part of the tragedy,
which is recited after the chorus has left off
finging ji it anfwers to our fifth ^d:, and cdn-
tains the unravelling, or cataftrophe of the
piece ', after which, it is remarked by the

B 4 critics.

1^5

(eritlcs,. any fdng of the chorus would on ly
be tedious and unncceflary, becaufe, what is

iaid when the adion is iinifhed, cannot be too
flxort.

Thtchorusy as we have before obferved,
gave the firft^ hint to the formation of tra^
gedy, and was, as it were, the corner^ftonp
of the whole edifice ; as a religious cere-'
mony, it was confidercd by the multitude
WitK a kind of fuperftitious veneration, it is
jiot therefore improbable, that the firft au-
thors of the regular drama, willingly gave
way to popular prejudices ; and for this,
amongft many other reafons, incorporated it
into tragedy ; accordingly we find the cho^
rus of -ffifcbylus refuming its original office,
reciting the praifes of the local deities, demi-
.gods, and heroes taking the part of diftreffed
virtue, and abounding throughout in all thofc
• moral precepts and religious fentiments, by
which the general writings of the antients are
fo eminently and honourably diftinguifhed.

The antients thought it highly improbable,
that a great, or intercfting event fhould be
performed without witnefles; their chorufles
were, therefore, compoled of fuch perfons
as moft naturally might be fuppofed prefeat
pa the occafion; perfpns, whofe fituation
might fo far intereft them in the events of the
fable, a^ %Q render their prefence ufeful and

neceflaryj

t 9 ]

neceflkry ; and yet not fo deeply concerned
as to inake them incapable of perlbrnxing thaf:
-office, to which they were more particularly
appointed, the giving proper advice, and mak-
ing proper reflections on every thing that oc-
curred in the courfe of the . drama ; for this
purpofe a choriphgeus, or leader, fuperin-
tended and direded; the reii fpoke for the
whole body in the dialogue, and led the fbngs
and dances in the intermede.

The chorus had likewife another oSkcz^
which was to relieve the fpedtator, dqring the
paufes and intervals of the ai3:ion, by an ode or
ibng adapted to the occaflon, naturally arifing
from the incidents, and connected with thefub-
jcdl of the drama ; here the author generally
gave a lopfe to his imagination, diiplayed his
poetical abilities, and fbnietimies, perhaps too
often, wandered from the fcene of aftion
into the regions of fancy ; the audience, not-
withftanding were pleafed with this fhort re-
laxation and agreeable variety; foothed by
the power of numbers, and the excellency
of the compofitionj they readily forgave the
writer, and returned, as it were, with double
attention to his profecution of the main fub«
jedl : to this part of the antient chorus, we
are indebted for fome of the npbleft flights of
poetry, as well as the iiheft fentiments, that
jidorn the writings of the Greek tragedians*

^ The

%k<Jrii&, wfts pr c>baWy nt firft inddterminitttfy
Tiarying ac*c:o^raittg; to the circumfta»fc«9 and
plot of the dfama i .^^hjliis^ - 'we ^rt told,
i>roifigh% no kfs than fifty info Mb Sif^ifi^f^^
in thefoitn of fiiiies whofe lial>k», gi^Hm^,
^aiifd whale appearance^ «<^$> by 4^6 art ^
'^be j^oet, nendefed fo fotoiidable as to fri^hteh
^d)^ whole audience, and mafe^ feveralWomeh
mifcarry on the fpot. This accident lb
i3arnied the pirblici that a decJiee was im-
mcdtateljr ifFued, to limit the number tfe
twelve ; Sophocles was afterwards permfttefi
tb add three more, a limitation, we have/eib-
foh to imagine, became a rule to fucccedink
poets.

The chorus continued on the ftage during
<the whole ir^refehtation of the piece, unle^
^when fotae very extraordinary cifcun>ftancfc
required their abfeoce ; this obliged the poet
10^ a continuity of a<9:ion, as the chorus could
'not have an excufe for remaining on the fpof,,
when' the affair, which called them tdge-
Irher, was at an end ; it preferved alfo tht
^nky of time, for, if the poet hadcckupre-
;hehded in his play^ a week, a month, or a
year, how could the fpeftators be made tp
Relieve, that the people who were before
^em", could have pafled fo long a time witlfe-
out eating, drinking, or flecping ? Thus wo-

find.

• /

find, that the chorus preforved all the uni-
ties of adion, tinie, and place, that it pre-
pared the incidents, and incukati^ the moral
of the piece, relieved, andamufed the fpec«-
tators, pcefUed om^ axid ilii'i^^ the n^d,
made a part of the decoration, and^ in (hort,
pteffvadcdaodanioiated the wisok. \

t HA P.

1

£-.-,,.

C 12 ]

c ii A P. in.

ft

Of the Verfcy Recitatumf and Mufic.

THE art of . poctiy was, Jn . one- rcipeft,
confidered by the antients, the art of
making verfes proper to be fung ; they looked
upon words^ not only as iigns of particular
ideas, but as founds alio, enabled by the af*
fiftance of mufic, to exprefs all the paflions of
the human mind: the ancient audiences
were all accuftomed to this, as one of the firllr
parts of their education was the knowledge of ^
mufic, which they cultivated thro' life, yrith
fuch affiduity, that it was reckoned a reproach
to be ignorant of it i hence the fenfe was
equally fitted for the ear, as well as the heart.
When dreadful or difagreeable objedts were
to be reprefented, the words were formed of
fuch harfh and jarring jfyllables, as by grat-
ing on the ear, might befl: imprcfs the ex-
adtefl; reprefentation of them; and, in like
manner, when the grand, the beautiful, or
the tender, was to be fet before the imagina-
tion of the fpeftator, the language was care-
^lly,, :an4 often, too fl:udioufly, adapted to it.
The Greeks, who were extremely folici-
tous to cultivate and improve their language

to

to the higHeft degree of perfedion, toolc more
than ordinary, care in the*. formation of their
verfe ; * the. quantity of every Syllable was
carefully afcertaiiied, different words, diffe-
rent dialeds, and different feet were appro-
priated to different fpecies of poetry, and non^
infringed on the rights and privileges of ano-
ther ; but tragedy, as the fovereign, affumcd
a kind of peculiar title to them all ; every
fpecies of verfe was occafionally introduced to
adorn and beautify the drama y the Iambic was
generally made ufe of in the body of the piece,
as approaching, according to the judgement
of Ariftotle, neareft to common difcourfc, an4
therefore moft naturally adapted to the dia-^
logue ; this rule, however, is hot conft^ntly
and invariably obferved, but fometinies de<^
parted from with judgement ; the metre is
frequently changed, not only in the fongs of
the chorus, but in other places, and that ge-
nerally in the moft interefting and impailioned
parts qf the drama, where it may here be ob-
ferved, it is mo.ft probable, the mufic and
inftruments accompanying the verfe, were
changed alfo; a happy circumftance for the
poet, as it muft have afforded an agreeable re-
lief to the audience, who would naturally
be fatigued by the repetition of the fame
founds, were they ever fo harmonious.

It

t H 1

"ft Is more than probable, that iftic theatric
cal declamation of the antients was compofed
Uttd written in notes, and thiit th6 whole play,
from beginning to end, (except the commoi,
and choruflcs) were a kind of recitative, Kkc
eur modern operas ; we are induced to this
way of thinking, from an ojjinion of P, Me-
ncftrier, and feveral other learned men, that
the cuftom of chamiting in churches was ori-
ginally taken fixMn the antient ftage, as the
theatres were open at the commencement of
the chriftian axfa^ and it is not Jmprobable,
but that the common people might recite our
Saviour's paffion after the manner of the tra-
gedians ; one pointy however, we are certain
of, that in 6ur nation, as well as in n;iany
others^ the firft tragedies exhibited, were oa
religious fotjefts ; and, in fome places, con-
tinue fo to this day.

The whole of tibc piece was accompanied
widi mufic,and theaftor, who was die reciter,
Jiad little elfe to do, than carefully to obferve
the diredtions of Ac poet ; the quantity of
every word vsras afccrtaincd, the time, dura-
tion, and rhy thmus of every fyllable fixed by
the mufician, fo that he could not eafily mif-
take, or offend. The aftor was not, as on our
ftage, left at liberty to murder fine fentimcnt
and language by wrong accents, and falfe pro*
neunciation, by hurrying over fbme parts

with

i is. J
,-witJi ' precipi^cy, and drawling out others
intp a jtedicfus monotony j he was obliged tp
cultivate hi? Ypice^ ^5 well as his judgement.
Thqiiigh )ipu|ic pervaded th^ whole of the
.^a^i^eat drama, ^nd, according to FAbbq Du
JB(os, even f fliftcd Ae gefticulation, we ima-
gine the principal exertion of ii's powers myfijt
have been referved for the fopgs, whej;e b^i^h
4he poetry and mufic adtnitted of much greater
ifreedotti ai>d^ variety^ than in t^ie »pther p^ar^s
i ^f the dr^na : thus we feet in the antient

i .theatre, mufic dways accorppanied hef- fijter

Jciencje ; aiGilad, animated, aiid fupported her,
,and >v^$ in.iho^t^ iii all re^.e^ts, her friend

r«nd feUow-laboiirer. . ^ , /

An4 here we canpot but remark, whatja
.fcombinatipn of talents, the office of a (Jr^-
.xhatic poet, in the tinae of antient tragedy*
required -, . for,. Jjffides all;^ other requifites,
it was neceflary that he fhould be mafter of
, every kind of verfe, completely fkilled in mu-

: fie, and able to diredt all the evolutions, move-

ments, or (if we fo chufe to call them) the
dances of the chorus ; a height of knowledge
that can fcarce be looked up to by our prefent
race of pigmy ftage writers, whofe patched or
tranj^ted pcdormtnccs have lately aflumed
1 the natoe of tragedy, and who owe one part

j of their fuccefs more to their indujiryy than

their '

[ i6 ]

their parts, and are indebted for the other to
the falfe tafte of the age, joined to the real
jnerit of fome principal performers.

After all, the ufe of mufic in tragedy, hath
been a matter of much doubt and contention
with modern critics ; M. Dacier diinks it,
by no means, eflential, and greatly condemns
Ariftotlc for his apprdbation of it; it feems
to be, notwithftanding, indifputable, that on
the antient ftage, mufic was a moft beautiful
adjund: to poetry, and contributed, in a great
meafure to the poUfh of the Greek drama ;
We cannot, perhaps, fo eafily refol ve how far
it may be reconcileable to modern ufage,
though, from fome experiments on our own
theatres, fuch as in facrifices, prdcefiions, &c.
we have reafon to think, that when ufed,
thus fparingly, and with judgement, it might
be attended with its defired eifeft.

CHAP-

t 17 1

■ fk.

C H A P. IV*

I

X)f the Majks of the Aniienisk.

THOUGtl theRdmans have pretended
to have been the fir A inventors of the
inafk» and that it v^as one Rofcius Gdlus^
(according to Diomedes) who firil wore one
on their ftage, to conceal the defeats of
iquinting ; the better, and more uftiverfal opi-
nion gives it to jJifchylus, who introduced it
into Greece, upon the firft eftablifliment of
that drama ; this cuftom has been preierved
in part on fome modern ftages, as a great
many perfonag;es of the Italian comedy are ftill
malked; and it is not a long while fince (ac-»
cording to L'Abb6 du Bos) they were fre-
quently ufed on the French ftage in the re-»
prcfentation of comedies.

The an tient players, as well in tragedy as
-comedy, had feveral forts of mafks, which
they frequently changed ; for the people be-
longing to the ftage were of opinion^ in thofe
times, that a particular phyfiognomy was fo
very eflential to the charadler, as to think it
ueceflary to give the figure of the mafk proper
for the reprefentation, in order to comnjuni-
catc a more complete reprefentatioij* After
' C the

t: J8^ 1

diede(criptioii> therefore, of each perfonagCf
fuch as diey ufed to prefix to their theatrical
pieces, ^nder the title of j^^^/rj oft6e dratna,
it was cuftomaiy for them to give the figure
of the maik, which appeared to. them a ne-
cefiary inftrudion.

, But, as thefe ftage ornaments are not fo ea^
fily reconcileable. to modern cuftom, wefhaH
here give an account of their principal advan-
tages on the antient ilage. The ufe of maflu
prevented people from feeing an adtor, ad*
vanced in years, play the part of a young
lover; Hippolytus, Hercules, an4 Neftor,
appeared diways upon the ftage, with their,
heads diftinguiihabie, by being fuited to their
known characters; the vizard, under which
the ador appeared, was always agreeable to
the part he repreiented ; hence there was no
fuch thing to be feen, as a player ading the
. part of a man of honour, with the phy fiog^
homy of an accompliibed villain. ** When
the compofers. of declamation, fays Quinti-
lian, introduce a piece upon the ilage, they
know how to. draw the pathetic even from
the very mafks : in tragedies, Niobe ap-
pears with a forrowful countenance; and
Medea announces her character by the fierce
air of her phyfiognomy ; ftrength, and va-
lour are painted on Hercules's maik, whilA;
that of Ajax j>roclaiQui his tran^(A't and fury.

3 ^

t >9 1

Ih cottfe^fii, the m^s <tf ilaved^ pitUps, pa^
Mfited, paafantsi Mdi^tSy did women^ cour^
fetalis, aiid {he^avd$> have <sach thdr par*^
ticukr chaMdter : by the mzSks, we diftin^
gukh the cfofe old fellow, from th^godd-ii*^
tored bid gentleman ; the fober youth froni
the debauched rake, aitid the yOutig dak^M
from the lady of quality j if the fathisr, who
a6ts the principal charadcr of the comedy,
is to be fometimes pleafed, and fometiteea
>e3tcd^ he muft have one of the brows of his
ma^ knit, and the other fmoothi and he hai
a particular attenti^cm to fhew that iide of his
mafk to his fpeffcator^i which agrees with hi*
prefenf ifchar&iaei^/'

The mlafles, likeWife produced a great pro'^
babiSty in thofeejtcellferit plays; wherie the in-
tricacy arifes from the miftake, by which fome
of the zdtttB take one per fonage for another ;
tho fpeftator, who found himfelf miftakeil^
upon attempting to diffinguifli between twV>
a^ors, whof^ mafk was as like as poUible"^
might tafily conceive^ that the aftbrs them**
ifeWes were deceived ; thus he was fcoii im^
po&d upon by the fuppbfitibn on which the
incidents of the piece are founded 5 whereat
this fuppdfitionis fo vciy improbable with US,
that it ife with gtfeaf difficulty we give way to
It J in ieveral eif hint dramitic piedcs, the'
^lots oA which ^ art principally founded oh

C 2 thefe

ihcfo mlAakes, the. audience, perceive diA
tinlEtly^ that the perfonagcs who ogcafiofi
them are really different; how is it poffibl?
then to conceive^ th^t the. adors, who are
nearer to them, fhpijld be. miftaken in this
refpeft/but to the habit we have of hu-
mouring all the fuppofitions which cuftonj
has eftablifhed on the flage^ and which, from
the frequency of the a<5t, obliterates all the .
abfurdity of it ?

The mafks, likewife, furnifhed the antlents

with the opportunity of making men ad thofe

female perfonages, whofe declamation re-

guired robufter lungs than women generally

have, efpecially when they were to make

themfelves heard in fuch fpacious places as

the Roman theatres ; in fad:, feveral paflagej

of the antients, and amongft the reft a re*

cital, which Aulus Gellius gives of the ad<p

\enture that happened to a comedian, whofe

' name was Polus, who aded the part of Elec^

tra, inform us, that it was cuftomary for

them to make men ad female charaders.

In the antient Greek comedy too, which
allowed the pp^t the liberty of charaderiifing
any living citizen, the ador wore a mafk^
which exadly refembled the perfon to be re-
prefented in the play; and thus Socrates might
have feen on the Athenian ftage, when Arifto^
pharies perfonated him in his comedy of ^^ tho.

Clouds^

t 2t 1

dotids/' his fecorid-ffelf 5 wl'thciut .examining
liere into the unbridled licehte of this ufagel
there is no dopbt it's utility, in point ^oFper-
Tonificatioh,' '^as very greit', as .fhepoef'haci
nothing to do, but to draw fome leading
traits of the mind; the painter made out
the reft.' '' . .\ r - ' /""

But, notwithftanding what has 'been' ad-
vanced in favour of the antient mafks, who
is it that can be fo attached to them, as not
to prefer the natural difplay of the coun-
tenance to that imagined by art ? The antient
players frequent change of their mafks, and
the turning, occafionally, their different pro-
files to the audience, no doubt, gave them all
that variety they were capable of; but who
that has feen a Garrick thunder, and lighten,
freeze, and difTolve, by the irrefiftible ac-
companyment of his features, but muft turn
with contempt from fo feeble, fo inadequate
a fubftitute ?

We are led to think, therefore, that the
anticnts themfelves, (who, to do them juf-
tice, fcarce ever departed from nature, but
on the beft grounds) would have made their
pcrforipers^ayafide their mafks, were it not
for this reafon ; that, as their theatres were
prodigious large, and without a roof, or folid
covering, the malk was of ufc to the player,

C 3 in-

•

llis^rnuch as it was fo eoB&ry&ed to ^d htf
i^oicejj and ma^ himftlS heard by. all the
Ipedlatbfs ; befide, as it was impQilibic the
piccr alterations of the face^ ihoxHd be |^cr«-
ccivcd by the audience, a grf^t numb^ of
whon^ were upwards pf twelve fa^om froca
the ftage, the features of the maik wore
inaxie to anfwer fa di^t 3 peirfpe^ve.

• » *

v. ;

i I ■; J •

. r . »

<

CHAP.

C «3 I

C H A R V.

On the Dhtfian of theatrical Declamafhn be^
iween two A^ors^ one of whorii prohounctfd^
Hobilfi the other geJHcuiated.

TH E declamation of dramatic pieces>
was frequently divided betwedi two
a^^jors ; one of whom was obligefd to pro-
nouBce, while the odier performed the gefti-
culatiom How to reconcile this f^dtmngly
ftrange mode to the modern ilige is» perfa^ps^;
not dtbgether pra^cable 3 however^ astheri
are many reafbns which, in a great meailire^
tend to illuftrate this pra^ice, wfc flialllay
ihem before our readers, premiJSng with the
adventure which firft eftabliflied it as a cuf-^
torn.

** Livius Andronicus *, a celebrated jpoet^
who flouriflied about the year 514 bf Rom^
and near fourfcore years after the ti^atres had
been opened in that city, ufed to a£fc in fome
of his pieces ; it was then a cuftbmary thin^
for dramatic poets to appear themfelves on the
ftage, in order to recite fome part of their
Works 5 the people who afllimcd the liberty^
uihich they Jlill f referee in France and Itafys

C 4 ©f

; Tit. Uv. hif. lib, 7.

' [Hi

ef defirlng thofe paffages to be repeated which
pleafed them moft, by crying out fo often the
jatin word ^is, (which anfwers to the French
word encore we make ufe of) made poor An-
drdnicus recite fo long, that at laft he grew
quite hoarfe ; finding hiro^lf, therefore, \in-
capable of declaiming any longer, he ^^ade
the people confent to his having a flave to re-
cite the yerfes, wbotti he placed before th*
mufigian, whilfl he made the fame g^ilicula^
tion, a^ if he himfelf. had been reciting; it
was then obfervcd, that from this. relief, his
^d:ioii grew m9re lively an^ animated^ becaufe
lie exerted his whole ilfength in gefticulating,
whilft . another had the care and trouble of
pronouncing."

** Heipge:,^he pradice arofe, continues Livy^
of dividing , the declamation between two ac-
tors, . and to recite, as it were, to the gef-
ture and ad:ion of the comedian ; and this
puflocfi has ' fo fv prevailed, that they pro-
nounce j nothing &t prefent but the verfes of
the dialogue/* .

Th^, art of gefture, fuitable to the thea*
trical declamation, W3S fubdivided into thre?
difFeri?nt methods ; the fir ft taught the Rnh-
me/ia, proper for tragic declamation ; the kr-
cond the Qordax, fitted to the declamation of
comedies ; the third . {hewed the SicinmSf a
•^fture proper for thq recitatioii of thofe dra-

I *5 1

^matic Jjtfeces, which thd anticnts called fatircs;
the perfonages who recited in thefe three
kinds of poems, ufed feveral geftfculations
particularly adapted to each. ' - --

How Was it poffible (fome will fay) for tht
antients to reduce thofe methods^ to writing^
and to find out notes, and charaflrers which
(hould exprefs all the Attitudes and move-^
ments of the body? rdally we cannot tell*
but Femllee's Chorography (which we quote
on the -credit of L* Abb^ Du Bos) Ihews the
thin^ wSs'poffible^ there is ho more difficiilty
in learnrn]^ to makegefturesby notes, thari in
kno^h^, by notes, "hd^" to m^ceflJe^ irid
•figured \ ^ now that the^ latter ' is * |>offible, is
laid tof bfe liemohfh^tedlby Fcuillee's booki *
. Thotigh we have riot?' reduced the ule of
geftures into ah art, ati^ for want of' being;
Efficiently acquainted with this fubjed, have
not cbnfBquently divided the objedls'as much
ias the antients j yet it is vifible,'' that tra-
gedy, and comedy,* eveh with us, have their
own peculiar- geftures; the atfHon, atti-
tude,, and countenance of our adlors, who re-^
cite in tragedy, are riot the fame as when
they a(fl in comedy 5 diredled merely by in-
'ftinA,' they render us, in fome refped:, fen-
iible of the principles on which the anti-
cnts foiji^ed the divifion of theatrical gefture,
^d reduced it ;info three different methods,

'' Nature,

f 9^ I

"^ NatiiK^ -aa Ciqora observes, having giv€^
eacli: paflion and fentimont its particuW ex«
jireifioQ on the coontsoance, as we)l as. its
proper tone and gefture*"
^ -Wc find fcve«a thir^, in a chapter oi
Qjiintilian's inlHtutes^ ]»rhere he (peaks morp
popjouily ^an elfewher^ qf th^ £1^^^^ ^^it*
able to ai| orator^; wluci> plainly indicate^ that
the comedians hadi particular fchods in his
timc;» where l&koy infirud^ in theatrical gef-
fore J herehp d^ades hisr pupil, fooietinpief
Iropi following what the contcdians taugjbt^
m relation tO: £>me particular part of their ac^
^to^f^aod^ atqt]|;^ert^^ dtes them ag

good' imUhsrs:; ^f Thole who teach .the fee*
nicart,(ia^s hc» in4i|^oth|^part cf the fame
idbapter *) f|od, tl»at ^ 1^^ gcfture , made only
with the head, is a jt^^d gefture,
; It oren appears, that thefe profcflbrs hac^
what We call terms of art| lor C^intiliao^
Ipeaiung; of the couatenaixce, vi^hich an orator
^ould fliew for fome time, before he has
.commenced his difcourie^ (when the eyes of
9, whole audience are fixed upon him), fays^
^^ that the comedians gave, to this Audied
fiknce, the appellation of /vA^j/^

But we (hall endeavour to explain her^
more intelligibly, than we hat^e hitherto done^
how the k<3ion of the playe^, who ge(ticur

laled^

^f Quint Iaft« lib. m csp. s« m

I

99

i ^7 1

Jatedy could McoiHpai^y the^pramuKiatimi^
ibe person tkat recittd : the antieot theatrkal
laufic was divided mto two part^i the !^)^
(r4tieafmd mesfrkah the former ihewedth^
|rt ^f fdUowiag tib» measure io ig^/Hcuk^kji^
6B the latter did ifl re0f0h £> that ^e a^ior
vho recited^ and ihe per£)n thatgeAtculate^
were obliged lo follow the iame meaAire and
ti»e.

WehtHre fcea in QgbtilMn^, th^f &«^
iendttivoitred to ^aUilh a ^prepctf tiojar beiwew
1^ gefture and words of the ^tsAcir, d th«C
JOB aifUoii (bmild be neither too quiche ty^
Ixroken ; very likely this idea ar ojQ^frOQa henctv
that the adtor^ who recited on.the^Aa|^y <Hi^il:
to pronounce only a certain number of wolda^
whilft the other made a particul«ur gfeftutfe > be

this as it will> ^tis certain they (botib fbUbt^ed
Jthe iame meafure beaten by the &me perfon^
who bad before him the verfts to be recited^
and whde fyUables pointed .out the iistkr;
above thefe verfes tiiey noted the geAaits
wj&ich the players were to malo^ meafitre
\fy meafure.

bk what snamttr ibfcver this was done^ w%
know that the adors agreed perfe^y wbll ia*
their diff^ttit parts, Seneca fays, <^ 'tia ihr^
piifing to ibe the g^dfaire oi eminent ccmi»
dians on the As^, o\^ertake» and even keej^

pace

1

J

|wice witti'lpccch, notwithftanding the vela-
city of the tongue/* 'Tis plain, that Se-
ineca*s meaning does not relate here to a per-
son, who executes bdth at the fame time>
ioT there is. nothing Icfe furprifing, than to f^
liis geftui'e*to6ve as quick as his pronuncia*
^on : the &ihg is very ftatural, and there caA
w no roofri fbir addiiration, ^ut when one ac-
tor recites, whilft another gefticulates : wfc
find likewife, ^'by a paflage in Cicero, that a
tomedian, wh&;droipped'a g6fture but of time^
'iiras hifTcd aS'lndch as one who was miftaken
in pronouncing ai verfe; Lucian obierves alio,
diat a gefture, not in its proper meafare, was
irfteemed a capital fault in an adtor, which oc-*
^afionedthe proverb among the Greeks, ** To
wmmit a]fiiS^m/m with the bandy '
r . There is no manner of doubt then, but the
smtient cooiedians excelled in this part of the
4eclamati6n i they had very great natural dif^
portions for 'it, fif we may forma judgement
of them, by what we • bbferve/ even in their
countrynaeuy :our co-ftcmporarlc^ ; they, ap*
plied theinfelves with great care and af&duity
to 'their profeffion, and that they arrived to a
wonderful pitch of excellence in it, we fhall
add to the authorities we. have already giy$n»
what a grave father * of the pf imiiive church
fays of it, ^^ That this gefttculation was as

be-^

:• TeniiUia»« *

I 2$ ]

bewitching as the difcourfe of the ferpent,
who reduced the firft Woman/'

Did we prefer curiofity to utility, we could
be much more difFufive upon the fubjedl of
the antient drama, by entering into minute
details of the drefles, dance?, conftruftion of
the theatres, &c. but; as our defign is no
more than to afford pur readers a retrofpec-
tive and general view, when we draw com-
parifons between the antient and modera
flage, we have confined ourfelves to ejfentials ;
referring thofe who would wifli to get beyond
this line to the elaborate, yet ingenious fa-
ther Brumoy on the Greek theatre, who hasj
perhaps, with more learning and afliduity
than the fubjeft was worth, invefligated every,
the minutefl article which antiquity' has left
us on this point.

CHAP.

t J» 1

» 9

C HA P. VI.

-4 Definkii§n^ of Tragedy.

^ ripRAOEDY is the imkation of an
JL a dlion> whieb, by means of terror
and ^ompaffionp refines and purifies iir us alL
forts ctf paflioo/* This is Ariftbtlc's ac-^
cou&t of it; amd this is what the ableft
€riticd> both antient and modem, have hehi
to be the pureft and moft genuine iliuftra-
tion of it: there are other kinds of tra-*
gedy^ noi doubt, where the good are re-
warded^ and the bad punifhed^ which, how-»
<ver admiflible under this head, are incapable
of producing fuch good efFeits as the former >
our pity is engaged for the perfons reprc-
fented^ and our terror is upon our own ac-
f^ount ; hence it being the province oiperfeSt
tragedy^ to excite both pity and terror^ an in-
nocent perfon falling into adverfity, ought
pever to be the fubjedt of it ; 'tis true, fuch
a one may excite ///y and terror ^ but the for*
mer in an inferior degree, and the latter in no
degree for moral inflxudlion ; the hiftory of
a wicked perfon, likewife in a change from
inifery to happinefs, ought not \o be repre-
feated> which excites neither terror or coni-

paflion^

paflioOt no^ is ajree^We ifl V^J i<%o^f ^
misfortunes; of a wiqked pecfpn ccwc.Ufifko
the iapip exclufion^ as» however fugb « ron
prcfcntatipo may be partly agreeajbje upon 9{
priaciple of juftice, it will not mow our pit^
nor any degree of terror^ except ia thofe oC
the fame vicioUs di^oiitiQa with the perfpoi
feprefented; the only charader, then, moH
fitted for a tragical fubje£t^lie^ ia themiddle^
neither eminently ^gpod, nor. eminently bac^;
where the misfortpne$, are not the effeS; oi
deliberate, vice, but of fojpeie involuatery.
feult. .

Eup let us fee; hpw tragedy, thxis. de^oed^^
is capable of exciting termor and pity^, iaor^^
dex to refipe and purify ia ua aU fqrts, of pal^
fioa ;. it e38cites /tfrr^r ^Vi^xQmpaffi^ in usj, by
fetting before Pur eyes, the c^ajDaitjiea.whicJi%
thofe,. who. are lilie Qucfelvcs, We, f^iko,
into byinyoluntary faults, and.it refines thenv^
by rendering thpf^ very misfortunes familinyy
to us, becaufe it teaches, us, , not to^ be, too^
much cQncejrned, when, they regally, happen^
Ariftotlc is not the, Qnlyr critic, who has, had^i

thw. idea of tragedy^ (though his opiaicuifc
&otQ the greatnefs of his char^der,. and the;
^per^l iiibfcriptiQi); to it for. abQve two thou^.
iapd yie^pall,,fhQ^J4 mafe^i it(^cifiv^) The;
gpcdqB^eror^^Ma^rcuai^ pa£fe4^<

f Chap, yJL ainth book of Us ReflcAiont.

.■i

I 3^ I
judgement en it in the following words t
^' Tragedies, fays he, were firft introduced,
to put men in mind of thofe accidents which
happen in their lives ; to inform them they
muft neceflarily come, and teach them, that
thofe things they fee with fo much delight on
the ftage, (hould not appear infupportable in
the grand theatre of the world."
' The advantage tragedy brings to mankind,
is by no means inconfiderable ; it prepares us
to bear the moft unlucky accidents coura-
geoufly, and dilpofes the moft miferable to
think themfelves happy, when they compare
Aeir own misfortunes with thofe which tra-
gedy has reprefented to them ; in whatever
/condition a man may be, yep, when he
ihall fee an Oedipus^ or a Ltar, he can but
think his own afflictions light in comparifon
with theirs : but it ftops not here ; it refines,
at the lame time, all thofe other paffions
which can precipitate as into the fame
troubles ; for, in exhibiting the crimes which .
have drawn thofe miferabks into what they fuf-

fer, it teaches us to ftand on our own guard,
aod powerfully induces us to moderate, and

refine in ourfelves what was the only caufe of
their lofs; thus tragedy becomes an ufeful
medicine to the mind, by thoroughly purg-
ing the paflions, at the fame time that we re-
ceive: a pleafure in the operation*

Having

i n y

Having given this brief illuftration of tra-
gedy, we (hall now proceed to the four prin-
cipal parts jof whi(^ it is CQOipofed^ and
which are is follow :

F A ft L fi.
Manners,

' ' ' ' I? f C T I O N#

Ariftotle^ ipdeed, has added two more, deco-'
ration and ^j^f $ but as thefe (though ef]Ba«
tially ne? e^ary. oi) the Greek ftage) are coofir
dered^ at prej^nt litde better than prnameoM
sppeAdages, we ihall fntke no applggy £pr
#mkt«i^' them bejfo* ;

D ClN^AP.

[ 34 ]

• #

CHAP. VII.

Of Fable. ,

FABLE, tvhleh is juftly called thc^Stt/
of a draihltiG pbemi is thus defiQed )
** ^ difcourfe, invented with aft, to form the
marfneir s by, ittftruftion, difguifed under the
scllegory of an adtion." Ariftotle has divided
Tthe'^ble into two patts, JlmpJe and comp$urid.
^he^niple fable is that in which there is nei-
thieriSiange of condition, nor remembrance^
and the unravelling of which is only a finglc
paflage of agitation, and trouble, repofe, and
tranquility ; or, according to Brumoy, where
the hero of the piece, already unfortunate, ar-
rives infenfibly at the completion of wretch-
cdnefs, like Phaedra and Hippolitus; or where
he pajQcs from happinefs to mifery, like Oedi-
pus ; or, where he may rife from the depth of
calamity, to a happy fortune like Nice*-
medes.

Compound-fable, is that which hath a

change from bad fortune to good, or from

.good to* bad ; that is,, bf two forts of perfon-

ages> the one criminal, the other virtuous ;

they

tliey each fxiay reverfe the balance; the re-*
ward dtoc to vif tufe may, in the end, be given^
to vice, that of vice to virtue ; or the latter
may be puniflied^ and the former rectom*
penfed. ; ' c

The contrivance of each fable, -^Uft have
likewife two pahs; the intrigue '^A 4ifc<H
veryy the intrigue (hould but dawn in the
firft ad, and unfold rtfclf progreflively^ (fub**
jedt to:occafi6nal involutions) tilL the > full
difcovery is made in the fifth ; it is true^ a
Bumber of theatrical pieces have itheir ca*
taftrophe in the latter end of the fourth atSt;
but the former is the moft favourable fitu-
ation for a poet/ not only as it is mor^ '.
agreeable to antient rules, :but as it intercfts
the minds of the audience, after the main
fubjedt is known, inferior matters are little
attended to.

In refpefl: to which of the two kind of
fables pleafes moft, - 'Ariftotle prefers the
^mple as the moft perfcS;* the compound^
however, has its admirers'; but then great
Care muft be taken not to be betrayed ^into
perplexity. Every thing^flioiild proceed from
the very conftitutioh of the fubjed, in fiich
a manner, 'that what precedes, ftiould pro-
duce; therefore, in all double plots,- one of
them muft be of the nature" of an epifode ;
• * D 2 ' ' '^ for

qF entertaining hinf^, if he wc^re fofoed t«.
aftten^i ajt th^ i^9 tim^t tp two .c^pttal
p]^^,«qu«|]y iinter^iitgi. Vi$K>n this acooitnt^
the tragedy of Oroonoko (before it reteired^

cmfikf^hh^ the &pt}^: whkh bfomght thd
fsmi}^ of the jyrriffit^ JdOto. aSacm^ being hk^
dicDOp^ and farck9l> deftroyed the tpoe and
t&)d: of: tKe. principal jiiot, which ia pathetic
an4 aifedahg : it follDWa ihta, wh^nevier ar
doubie plot is i&tpoduoed^ it ilkoukl i>e not
Qnly: fiobordiuate to the principal^ bat iQxroiw
nedied and inter-woven, a» to r(rftmble fiiadee
<9f coloQrs hanmoTiiottily mixed and blended^

kjfi hdce^ry foe a fkbie likewrfe, tXDhave
a joft ecdbent^ thatt is^ a iegiaking, ± mddk,
40d aj5 z;?^:; and hi»wev«r the ouinaer maji;
be altered, thefe three conditions miift ^.ift^

yipl&bly; fff^feryed y for both tr^ody alid c^o-
peoeia mutaally require acStionsi whi^h fa^^e
thefe pcQperti&s ; and here we nui^ tcamk^,
ih^y dii&r from ordinary fables, (fiich 48
itkoic cf J£^j>) 4^$Ui are often Wi.th a begfOy«^^
ixing and mi6^^ yet vithaut an 4snd ; huj;
9S th^iib terma cip4y W)t he ijn^^ht. fp$r«
cienjtly explicit, we will e3(rplpin thw^naor*
txadly : , the caiiie afi(i< deiign of 4Hktortkl(,in£
t^ii adion, are the ieiginmng ; th& efief^ a^
thefe caufes, and th^ cU^culties we find in

the

[ 27 3

die execution of that defign^ arc the muMe i^
. the anravelHng, and reiblving thofe difficulties^
are the eftdy but to render this iliU plainer,-
hy an exaEaple, the fubjed of the tragedy of
Macbeth is that prince'$ ambition^ which
was deftrudkive to hinjfelf ; ndw, .th6 begin-*
nihg of thxt adion^ is the refolution he has
taken, from the prophecy of the weitd fitters,
jthat he JhouM be king ; the middk is all thd
murders he waded through to obtain it ; and
*he end is, whai after perpetrating thefc hor**
rid adions, Jie is, hipiielf, juftly killed us ail
atonement for them.

In refped: to the choice of a fubjed, 'tis a
matter of indifference, whether it be tak^tl
from any well known point of hiftor;^ or to-
tally invented, provided, in the Jaft cafe, it
be probable and inipbrtant ; but in chufing
& fubjedt that makes a figure in hiflory, greater
precaution is necefTary, than where the whol?
is a fidtion; in the latter cafe, there is full fcopc
for invention; the author is under no re-
ftraint, other than that ithe chara^Sers ?nd iur*
tidents bejufl copies of nature; but where.
|tbe ftory is founded on truth, no material cir-f
(cuoiflance mufl be added, but fuch as cop-*
jjefts naturally with what is known to be
true ; hiflory may be fupplied, but ought riot
to be contradifted : a poet fhould, therer-
^e, not make Alexander in love w h

P 3 C^

i 3^ 1

Cleopatra,- nor Caefar the murderer of Bru-
tus J he ttiould likewife fhcw the fame refpefl:
to received and eftablifted fables, as he does^
to hiftory; the accounts we have received
of thefe gods and heroes, baVe, for many ages,
acquired a right of pafling for truth ; nor are
we entitled to con tradid: fuch relations ; he
ihould not likewife, v^i thou t great neceffity,
alter themanners andcuftoms of thefe .coun-
tries where h^ places his fcenes ; further, the
fubjedt fo chpfen, fhould be diftant in time,
pr^ at leaft, in jplace ; the familiarity of recent
perfons and events ought to be avoided, as
piodern manners would malcp but a poor figurq
in. tragedy.

We wpuld not, however, be underftood to
fall into that vulgar track of under-rating every
thing that is modern j the roughnefs, plain :^
nefs, anci impetuofity of antient manners,
{hew better in tragedy, without being, per-
haps, better fitted for fociety; but without
regard to this circumftance, it is the familiarp
rity of modern manner^, as well as moderij
heroes, that unqualify thVmfbr a lofty fub-r
je£t; the dignity of both will te better un-
derfiood in future ages, when they are no
longer familiar; men arc, in this refped:^ like
piiftures, they claim a greater fhare of our ad'^
miration on being viewed at a certain diftance;
yi^hen we come up too ciofc to the one, we

l9f«

t 39 ]
lofe all the benefit of light and ihade $ and
^n a nearer view of the other, we difcover fuch
vanities, little jealoufies, and inequalities of
mind, as are far froni inspiring us with that
love and veneration, which probably the fanie
charadlers may afford feveral centuries back j
therefore we readily join ifllie with th^t ;giu-
thor, who fays, " that the greateft enemies
of the glory of heroes, are their va/et de
cbambr€s\ befides, as tragedy is fond of
adorning her victims with crowns and fceptres,
and the fovereign houfes in our times, are io
conneded, one with another, by intermar-
riages, it would be almoft impoffible to exhi-
bit, at prefent,'upon any ftage, a prince that
had reigned within a hundred years in any
neighbouring kingdom, in whom the fove-
reign of the country, where the piece was to
be a<3:ed, would not find himfelf interefted as
a relation ; this circumflance alone carrier
with it fuch obvious inconveniences, as makes
^ny further objedtions unneceflary.

We are not ignorant, however, that bptH
the praftice of our Juftly admired Shakef-
pcarc, and feveral of the Greek poets, meet
this laft point in fome oppofition, but the di-
vine fancy, and immortal fentiments of the
former, in fome refpedt, covered this facrifice
pf truth, which he fometimos made to his

P \ royal

I 40 J

royal patroncfs * ; whilft the Ut^cj? h^d bccfi ft>
educated in the republican fpirtt of Athens,
as to juftify to the public their endeavours to
jnajce- monarchy odious by every rnethod in
their power ; hence the Greel^ poets hav?
fometimes disfigured the true charader of fe-»
veral of their living fovereigns ; hence they
have fo frequently introduced Oreftes upOQ
the ftage, aa a moft unhappy perfon, an4
purfued by the furies, tho' hiftoriaris men-
tion this prince to have lived to a great a^je^
and to have had a long ar\d proiperous reignj
over his people •!•.

After aproperfubjedt is choTen, 'the divid-.
ing it into parts requires fbme art ; the
Greeks, as w6 have already obfervcd, knew
of no other divifion than that of a beginning^
z, middle y and an end\ howeveh as HofacQ
has given the law for five a6t§, and the mo-?
derns have all followed hini, every author
flipuld govern himfelf by an opinion, fo uni-r
verfally fubfcribed to, taking care, to let the
old Greek law (the beginning, ipiddle, and
end) be, at the fame time.j^ j:(jii,Cpicuous. in hi^
work ; for without thjs, (2^. we have before
obferved) neither tragedy nor Epop^eia caq
poflibly exift'.

In the divifion of the ads, the Gon€lu6or>
of each fhould not be looked on as aFbitrary,

Of

;eeii Elizabeth, f Fat'fculcfs hift, 1. i.

C 40

or Intended for fo flight a purpofe, as to maka
the parts pf equal length} the iappofc^
paufc, at, the end of every hook, and the real
paufe at the end of every aS^ ought always
%Q coincide with fomc paufe ia the aaion ; in
ihis refpe<a, a dramatic poem ;ought to re-
semble a period in language, divided into
jnember&y that are diftingui(hed from each
father by proper poiitts ; or a piece of raufix:,
having a full clofe^ at the end, preceded by
imperfedt clofes that contribute to the me-*

jody.

Every ad ought, therefore, to terminate

with fome incident that makes a pauie in tbd i
aftion, for qtherwife there can be no pretence
for interrupting the reprefentation ; it tvouM
be abfurd to break oflF in the very heat of ac-
tion, againft which every one would exclaim j
the ahfUrdity flill remains, though the adioa
relents, if it be not adually fufpended for
fom.c time ; this rule is alfo applicable to an
epic pqcm, though there a deviation from the
rule is left iicniarkable, becaafe it is in the
reader^s power to hide the abibrdity, by pro-
ceeding inftantly to another book.
. We have already faid, on the opening of
this chapter, what kind of character, in rc^
fpQ&, to moralsv Ihould be chofeti as the hero
of tragedy ; we are now to ipeak of his qua-
^ty i and here Ariftotle gives the ruk : '* ht

[ 42 ]

hiufi: be chofen from amongft thofe who are
of eminent quality and great reputation/* 'Tis
true, there happen extraordinary and tragical
adventures enough amongft people of low and
middling conditions, which might take place
in tragedy ; but we believe fuch would never
fucceed fo well, not by reafon of the adlion, for
that would have all the neceflary and requi-
fite qualifications, but on account of the
degree of the perfons, whofe change of
mifery, would not give fuch lively impreffions
of either terror or compajjion as the other |
befide, the greatnefs of eminent men render
the adtion great, and their reputation makes
it credible; a foot foldier may fhew more
courage and prudence in the da^ of battle
than his general, yet the vidtory will be
afcribed to the latter, on account of the fu-
periority of his ftation, and the probability
ofthecaufe.

It has been a queftion of fome. agita-
tion amongft the critics, " Whether it be
proper to make the hero of a tragedy a
lover r' The rigid admirers of the anticnts
preclude it, on the principle of admitting no
fuch infirmity in the charader of a great man,
not confidcring, that to keep up the prevail-*
ing idea in a warlike people, it was then^
perhaps, more neceflary, than for us to ba-
nifh a paflion which tended, even in the

fnialle^

I

I

t 43 3

finalleft inftance, to obtrude upon miRfdry

glory ; but without deciding pofitivdy on ei-
ther fide, of which fo much has^ or may be
laid, we Ihall offer a few reafons in defence
of thofe moderns who admit it in their
pieces.

The pifture of a paffion which we haw
never felt, or of a fituation wherein we have
never been, can never move us, in fo lively a
manner, as the defcriptions of fuch paffions
and fituations as either are, or have been for-
merly our own cafe ; in the firft place, the
mind is but flightly touched with the pidtuils
of a paffion, whofe fymptoms it is a ftranger
to ; it is afraid even of being the dupe of an
unfaithful imitation ; now, the mind has but
an imperfedt knowledge of pafiions which the
heart never felt ; all the information we can
receive of others, being infufficient to give
us a juft and precife idea of the agitations of
a heart over which they tyrannize. Secondly,
cur hearts muft generally have very little in-
chnation to fuch paffions as we have been in-
fenfiblc of in our youth j the heart attains to
its full ftrength much earlier than the mind ;
and it is almoft impoffible, we think, for a
young man, not to have felt the motions all of
thofe paffions which he is fubjedl to by the

Jaws pf his ponftitution.

How

E 44 1

How is It poflible for a man, who has no
tafte for military glory, and who looks upon

*

'Svhat is comnionly called a great conqueror,
only as a madman, and a burden to mankind ?
How is it poflible for him to be deeply af-r
fefted with the reftlefs ambition and impetu-^
ofity of Achilles, when, l^e imagines a confpi-^
racy formed to prevent him from going to ac-r
quire immortality by the taking of Troy ?

A man likewife,. who is infenfibl^ of the
allurements of gaming, is not very deeply
moved with the diftref$ of a perfon who has
loft confiderable fums of nioney at play, (other
than that pity he has for his contrading fo
dangerous a habit) unleis he happens to be
related to him by fome of thofe particular in^
terefts, which oblige us to fympathize with
our afflidled friends ^ 'tis amongft thofe who
are afilided with the like misfortunes as our-?
felves, that we are led by inftinft to aflbciate
. with, fuch generally make themfelves part-?
ners of our pains, and confole \is with their
fympathy : Dido, under this influence, im-?
mediately conceives a paflion for iEneaa^
obliged to fly his native country, becaufe flic
herfelf was under the fame predicament^
which flie expreflfes in the following line :
Non ignara malt mijerts fuccurrere djfco.

Virgil iEn, i^

If

t 45 1
if I^DetS) thece&re^ cannot be f>knaed in
«diii^ng for the fubjed of their imitations^
t&e Gf&ds of theie particular pa^ns of
which meaaie fuic^tible^ how nwch lefs fo
fer imitating the. e^i9rd df Ufwe^ ^hich is
coiafe£kd\f the moft ^ncral of all 5 there be-»
ng icarce lany one but who has had Ihe mif^
forttne (if we can call a pa^n^ fa oonge-
nial to our natures, by £> harih a name) of
feeling the efk&s of it m focne part, or other
#f his life.

We will therefore ifobmit thefe reasonings

to the candid critic, and alk him, whether

the poets jfhould be cenfured, for giving

fo univerfal a paflion a place in the intrigues

of their pieces, which, probably, was ba-

nifhed the antient ftage, only for reafons of

Jiate? 'Tis true,^ degree oi moderation is highly

neceflary tq be obferved in the ufe of it;' as

we fee, for want of this, feveral modern dra-

matifts finding it eafier to imitate good poets

in their defedts, than in their perfeftions,

have pufhed their complaifance too far for the

tafte of their own times, or, to exprefs it

better, they haye even encouraged this tafte

themfelves, by a fervile condefcenfion, 'till

by improving upon one another's errors, they

have converted the dignity of the Jiage into

Jittle better than the fooleries and intrigues of

a drawing-room.

We

[ 46 1 .

Wc ihaU dofc our remarks on fable^ with
obfcrving after Ariftotle> *^ that thofe who
iipdertake to make a tragedy » will find it much
cafier to fucceed in the ftyle and manner^ thair
to form the fubjcft rightly ; and the reafonf
he gives, to fhew the advantage the fubjeft
has over all the other parts of tragedy, is
drawn . from the difficulty which is always
found in difpofing it in preference to the other
parts; for, 'tis a truth, confirmed by the ex-
perience of all ages, that in all arts whatever,
that which is the principal is moft diffi-
cult, and arrives lateft to its pcrfedion^

CHAP.

[47 ]

c H A P. vni.

Of Manners.

ARISTOTLE defines the manners of
dramatic poetry thus: " The man-
ners^ fays he^ are what difcover the inclina-
tion of him who fpeaks, and whereby wc
know on what he will determine, before one
fees that;he is carried that way, or aftually re-
jeds it." We ihall illuftrate this definition,
which is fupported by BofiTu, and fbme of the
ableft pi the modci:ns, by the following in-
ftance:

In the ^rft a<3: of Othello, Defdemona is
defcribed by him, in hi^ ipeech before the
fenate, befide many other amiable qualities,
as attached to him, on fuch principles of men-
tal aiFedtion, that ev*, in fpite of his being of
^a different colour, and of unequal years, no-
thing can alter ; a little after, a very difiicult
^choice is propofed to her, whether fhe will
follow her firift inclination, and go with her
[^hulb^d, . or take the advantage of her, father's
, tcndcrnefs, by d|fclaiming fo imprudent, and,
in fome refpedt, fO; unnatural a match ? on the
one fide gratitude, filial affediion, and pa-

rental

fcntal authority, plead to make her rcfbtvfi
on the latter; on the othcr,^ conjugal duty^
tho' attended with the lofs of fortune, rank,
and parental love, is the only attachment ; yet
before we fee what refoiuti^p fhe will take, the
defcription which Othello has given of her,
and the manner of his wooing her, le^d i^s to
decide how her inclinatioris ^re, afld^ To jifthflt
ike wiH dcternrine: thefe tkefl aife the S^anUt^
tic manners y which are, in this refpbflt, gbdd
arid . uniform ; if flie llaid With hier' fa-
ther, the manners had been bad, l>6caufe wfc
ihouH fbrefee a choice and refokrtjotf quite
^contrary to that whidi Ihe ought to take 5
tmt ifihchad taktn no refolution, oric^ t^iy
or ©ther, but left thefenatc to decide for her,^
then there would be no manners at all.

' Therefore, its tn philofbphy, the manners
are got>d, when fhey make that man {x:fi in
whom Aey are; andlfiey are b^d, whew they
mdine him to vice and evfl adiohs; it Itkewife
in tragedy, the manners* are gopd, wlieii one
'may difcover rfie virtue, or vice, the g;c>ddj or
bad inclinations of thpfe w^hb Ipeak, or aQf;
but bad when a good ma^^ appears vidouy, Ofa
wicked man feems to have good inclinations ;
hence the manners of Tameriane and Rich-
ard Hid. confidered/^i?//w/i^, are botb equally
good^ becaufe they equally dpffionftrate the

vitttious

[ 49 ]

Virtuous king dil the one fide, and the ^tbl^
tfary tyrant on the other, which are the cha-*
radlers the poets beftowed on them, and uu-*
der which they are uniformly reprefented.

Manners fhould have likewife four quali-^
ties : firft, they fhould be goodi kcond,/uit-^
cblei third, likely znd agreeable i and fourth,
even. The goodnefs which belongs to poeti-
cal manners, being to make them appear fuch
as they are, it is neceflary to obferve, what
are the things which difcover to us the incli*
nations of the perfonages : and firft, the
ipeeches and adions ; *' there are manners
in a poem, (fays Ariftotle) if, as we faid,
the Ipeeches and adions difcover to us any
inclination 5 '* fo that thefe two things are
wholly owing to the poet,, who makes his
perfonages fpeak and adt as he pleafes, and
they are the foundation of all the reft y when
the manners are well exprefled after this way,
they are denoted purely and fimply by the
term good^ and this goodnefs makes their firft
and principal qualification. Ariftotle places
it in the front of all the reft, that it may be
the more exadtly obferved ; and Horace gives
the fame leflbn with his ufual accuracy and
knowledge.

" Notdndifunt tibi mores."

E The

The fccoftd thing is the knowledge, which
m genius, ftudy^ and experience give us of
thfi inclinations^ that are proper to each perr
fon, according to the comple^cion, the digf
nity, and all the other caufes, whether natu-
ral, or acquired, internal, or external. As fooa
98 the poet has given the dignity of a king to
one of his charadlcrs, without hearing him
fpeak, or feeing him adt, we know that he
ought to be grave, majeAical, je^ous of his
authority, and the like; the inclinations
fhould he,Juitable to that which the poet has
propofed ; and xKi^ fuitablenefs forms the fe*
cond quality in manners.

The third, is the knowledge which we de-^
duce from the fable, or the hiftory ; this fort
of difcovery is comprehended under the name
of common opinion^ or fame ; fo that when a
poet has named Alexander, we know, that
the inclination of this perfonage is all for
greatnefs and glory, and that his ambition is
larger than the extent of the whole earth ; if
he introduces Richard, or Macbeth, we like-
wife know they are, befides being ambitious,
cruel, and vindidtive.

But it fonietimes happens that manners
may be made like, and not agreeable^ and
agreeable, yet not like-, for inftance, if a
poet fhould reprefent an emperor, whom
hiftory has defcribed as fordid and cove^
toils, to give Iiim manners that were like,

would

[ 5i ]

would, by no means, be agreeabk, bedttlc no-
thing can be more indecent and unworthy fo
dignified a perfonage ; on the contrary, if he
ihouM make him magnificent and liberal, he
would indeed give him manners , which wotiI4
be agreeable^ but then they would not be
like^ fince they would be contrary to the opi-
nion which was commonly received of him*
What muft be done then, that the poet of-
fend neither againft the agreeablenefs, nor the
likenefs in the charader of this emperor?
why he muft diflfcmble his avarice,. (fays M.
Dacier, in his notes upon Ariftotle) without
changing it into liberality ; 'tis thus Mr. Cor-
ncille has ufed it in his Heraclius, in the cha*
rafter of the emperor Maurice, by fupprefiing
this evil inclination in him, which wa^ not
agreeable^ and yet not giving^him the contrary
qualities, which would be unlike: thus the
manners of thofe heroes in tragedy fhould bi
like thofe which fame has reported of them^
under this limitation ; and this refemblance
makes the third qualification of manners.

The fourth and laft quality in manners is,
that they be even^ that is, confiftent through-
out the whole charader.
fervetur ad mum

^lalis ab incapto pr^cejferity etjtli conjlet.

HoR.

E 2 not

t 52 }

not, however, that the perfon is always to be-^
tray the fame fentiments, or one and the fanne
paflion, this would be as abfurd as tedious >
but that he ihould never fpeak, or adl re-
pugnant to his fundamental character ^ an
old, or a young man, for inftance ; a king, or
a fervant, may, nay ought, as occafion ferves,
to fhew the common paffions of joy, or for-
row ; but for an old man to be introduced in
the firft adt, and to appear a young one in
the fecond, is inverting nature. Again, the
weak may fometimes break out into a fally of
Warmth, and the breaft of the paflionate may
fometimes be calm ; a change which, often,
introduces into the drama a very afFedting va-
riety > but if the natural difpofition of the
former was to be reprefented as boifterous,
and that of the latter mild and foft, they
WQuld both adt out of charadter, and contra-
didt the perfons they would reprefent.

But to illuftrate this further, by a drama-
tic example in the tragedy of Venice Pre--
fervd\ in the beginning of the play, Jaffier iis
reprefented as gentle, good-natured, and,
above all, living but in the afFedtions of his
wife ; yet towards the clofe, we find the very
fame charadter engaged in a confpiracy and
murder; a perfon may therefore fancy, ac-
cording to thefe different ftates, he may like-
wife make the characters of his heroes difFe-

rent>

C 53 1

rent, and that the manners of each part would
be good in particular 5 but though Jaffier
feems to be thus a different character, yet
this change i^ nt) more than what is very re-
concileable from the beginnijig ; if we con-
fider his diftreffed fortune; his refentment to
his father-in-law (againft whom, as one of
the fenators, he confpires,) and his inviolable
affeiStion to.Belvidera ; to contribute to whofe
conveniences, he engages in this veiy conspi-
racy.

Thefe then are the four qualifications of
manners^ which are become ilandard from a
coincidence of the moft refpedable Authori-
ties^ both antient and modernl

E 3 C H A P,

[ s* 1

C H A p. IX.

O/* Sentiments.

EVERY tlwmght prompled by paffion, h
. termed a fentiment ; or, in the word$
ef ibiftodc, ": Sentiments are what make the
matter of a difcourfe, and confift ip proving^
icfating^ and exciting the pafHons, as pity,
in(gCT> fear, &c. &c." Hence the following
v\3tU, concerning dramatic com'poiitions,. that
a paffion be adjufted to the character, and
fentiments to the paffion ; if nature be not
faithfully copied in each of thefe, a defeft in
execution is perceived ; there may appear
fome refemblance, but the pidlure, upon the
whole, will be infipid, thro' want of grace
and delicacy ; therefore as a painter, in order
to reprefent the various attitudes of the body,j
ought to be intimately acquainted with muf-
cular motion^ fo no Icfs intimately ac-
quainted with emotions, and charadlers ought
a poet be, in order to reprefent the various
attitudes of the mind^

To fpeak in the language of mufic, each
paffion hath a certain tone to which every
fentiment proceeding from it, ought to be

tuned

■[ 55 )
tunefd whh the grektcft^ accuracy : this' is no
6a{y work, efpecklly when fuch harmony
bttght to be fupported during the eourfe of a
lomg theatrical i^6prefentation ; in order then
to reach fuch delicacy of execution, it is ne-
ceflkrythat a writer afiutne the precrfe cha-
ra<3:er and paffion of the perfonage reprefentetf,
which requires no ineohfiderable effort of ge-
tiius ; but if a lively pidure, even of a finglfc
emotion, reqttirea this effort, how much
-greater the efRirt to comp6fe a paffioiiate dia-
logue with aS many different tones of paffioA
as there are-fpeafcers ? With What dtiftiHty
of fecKng rrtiift thitt writer be endued, wh6
zpproackes perfection in foch a Work, wheA
it h ndceffary to aflume different, and e^eh
oppofite charadcrs and paffions in the quiekeft
fucceffion ?

Buthov^ hard dialogue writing is, would bfe
evident, even without any reafoning, frorn
the miferable compofitions of that kind
found without number in all languages. The
truth is, fuch execution is too delicate fof an
ordinary genius ; and for that reafon the hulk
of writers, inftead of exprefiing a paffion ai
one does who feels it, content themfelves
with defcribing it, in the language of a fpec-^
tator ; to awake paffion by an internal effbrf,
merely without any external caufe, requires
great fenfibility ; and yet this operation is ne-

E 4 ceflary^

C 56 I

ceflary, not Icfs to the writer, than to the
ador ; becaufe none but thofe, who adlually
^ feel a paffion can reprcfcnt it to the life ; the
writer's part is the\more complicated; h^
muft add compofition to paffion, and muft,
in the quickeft fucceffion, adopt every diffe-
rent charader.

On the contrary^ an humble flight of ima-
gination may ferye to convert a writer into a
Ipedator, fo as to defcribe, in fome obfcure
manner, an adion as paffing in his fight
and hearing; in that fituation, being na-
turally led to write like a fpedator, he enter-
tains his readers with his owa refledions,
.with cool defcriptions, and florid declama-
tion, in (lead of making them eye- witnefl!es,
as it were, to a real event, and to every move-
ment of genuine paffion ; thus the bulk of
modern plays appear all to be caft in the fame
mould ; infipid reafoning, tame defcriptions,
and perfonages without the lead idea either of
charader, or paffion*

As we find, that in the difcuffion of this
fubjed, it would be ahuoft endlefs, to trace
even the ordinary paflions through all their
minute diflTerences, we (hall, for the fake of
adding example to precept, feled from the
moft celebrated of our dramatic writers, fuch
paffiigcs, where the fentiments bcft exprefs

the

£ 57 3

the paffions, and contraft them, with ojthew,
which fail fhort of fo.rjecpffary an union.

We fhall fumifh the firft example from
Shakefpeare, hcihg fentiments, diftated by a
violent and perturbed paflion.

Lear. ■ ■- filial ingratitud^ !

Is it not, as if this mouth (hould tear thisband
For lifting food to't ? but rU/pu;iifh hoin/?^ .. ; ,-

No — 1 will weep no m<M"e-- rin fuch a night _
To fhut me out ! Pour on, I will endure.
In fuch a night as this I , ^'Q^Regan, Go;ieril !
Your ol'd kind father- whofe fraijk heart g^ye all—
O ! that way madnefs lies i let me flion that ;
No more of that. [ . . » c .

A'f^^ Good, myXord, enter here. .

£^^r. Pr'ythee,.go in thyfelf.— ;Seet thin^ qwp^eafc, -
This tempeft will not give, me leave to* ponder
On things would hurt me more ^ but I'll so in : . ,

In,, boy. Go 6 rft—^yptT.houfelefs poverty-^ - • - .

Nay, ^et- thee in ^^ PU pray, and then Til fleep—^
Poor naked 'wrefche^, wherefoe'er you are.
That bide thQ.pq}ting gf this pitilpfs ftorm,.
How fhall your ^ouifeiers heads, ^nd unfdd fides^
Your loop'dj a Ad' wtiUloW '3 ragged nefi defend you -

FrofDife^ns fujch as th^fe ? — Q,' A have ta^en
ToaJittle care. of this ! Take ph^fic pomp j
Expoie thyfelf to feel what wretches feel.
That thou may'ft fhake the fuperflux to them,
And'fhew'the heavens more juft. ,

Lear^ A(ft III. Scene 5th.

The following example is expreflive of fen-
timents arifing from remorfe and defpair .

Othello. Lo ! I have a weapon :
A better never did itfelf fuftain

Upon

L -

•{ ^ i

l^oit a foMler^ flilgli. Pva fcen;tte (fey, '

]^^](i^ diade fiijf waj^ tK^obgh n&pre Ikifieytliti^ts

Than twenty. tiines y9ur ftop. . But j oh yain boaft I

Wht> can controul his fate ? 'us hot fonow.

Be not afraid, thougtt-ydir tfo (te tfic vtreaponM j

H«re is my journey's end — here is my butt, .

The very fea-mark of my utikoll 'foil; ' "

Doyougct'Bacikdiirrfiay'd? 'tis a lotf fear, - ' "

Man but a rii(&%ailtft Othello^s trkft, *

And he retircsf-^t^Kere* fliduM OAe Jlo go ?

Now — HoWjdoff *thp^ look rio\ji:,r oh ill-ftarr'd wciicb f

Pale as thy fmocfc' t' whth we fhall meet at coriipt,, ,"

This look of fhihe will hurl my ioxff from heaVeri, .
And fiends 'will fnatch at it — Cold — cold, 'my girl,
Ev'n like thy chaftity — P curfed, flavf !
Whip me, yed^vils."!— /, ' . *^

Fifeftfi thcf poHei&bh of tfiiaheaventy fieKt ; . . .

Blow me about inf winds,' roaftmij in fulpfiur, '
Wafli mVin fteep-down guTphs of liquid 6re^ — ^
Oh ! Defdemorta^r Dfefdemona ! dead f dead ! oh T oh t ,

Othllo^ A'£t V. Scene otb.

< • ( I f

' The ftntimehts liert ^diifpla^y^^ -flow fo ni-^
turaHy from the pafliQjis reprcfeiUed, that.wc
cannot cocn^me any imitation more p€irfe£l>
but to proceed to more partictilar 'obferva-
tions, paffiods feldom continue uniform any
confiderable time ; they gQQerally flttdiuate^^
fwyliing, and fubfiding by turns ; often in a
quic^ fucceffion ; the fentiments,. therefore,
cannot be juft, unl'efs they correfpond to fuch
fludtuatiGfl ; nor can a climax be (hewn bet-
ter than in expreffing a fwelling paflion'; the
» following

C 59 J •.

following paflagcs may fuffice for an illuf-
tration :

Oroonoko. Can you raife the dead ?
Purfiie and overtake theivings of time ?
And bring about again, the hours^ the days.
The years, that made me happy ?

Oroomko^ AA II, Sccne^adi

Almeria. Hem baft thou charm'd
The wildne& of the waves, and rocks to this ?
That thus relenting, they have given the^ back
To earth, to Kght,' and life, to love, and me ?

Mourning Sridty Ad L Scene 7tlu

■ • " '

The following paflage finely exprefies the
progpefs of convi^on*

Let me not ftir, nor breathe, left I diflblve
That tender, lovely form of painted air
So like Almeria. Ha ! it fmks — it falk.
I'll catch it ere it goes, and grafp her iha4e,
'Tis life ! 'tis warm ! 'tis fhe, 'tis (he herfcif 1
It is Almeria ! *Tis — it is my wife !

Mourning Bride, AA IL jScene 6ch.

In the progreis of thoiight^ our refblutions
become more vigorous^ as Wei) as our paf-
lions—

If ever I do yield, or give canfent
By any a^ttoin, word, or thought, to wed
Another Lord } may then juft heav'fi fliowV down, &c.

Mourning Bride^ A€t I. Scene ift^,

A pcrfon fometinaes is agitated, at once, by
different paflions ; and the mind, in that cafe,

vibrating

. . ' f ^° ^

vibrating like a pendulum, vents itfelf in fen-
timents that partake of the fame vibration, as
in the three following inftahces :

^ueen. Would I had never trod this Engliih earth.
Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it !
YeVe angels faces, but heaven knows your,hearts.
What fhall become of me nOw ! wretched lady !
I am the mbft unhappy woman living.
Alas ! poor wenches ! ' where are now your fortunes,

(To her women.)
Shipwreck -d upon a kingdom wherp no pity, -- ,

No friends, no hope !.. no kindred weep fojc mje. !
Almoft no grayc'allow'd me.

Henry VIII. A<ft III. Scene ift,

OthelU: ^^ ^; oh f- devil! devil! ^

If that the earth could teem with woman's tears, '
Each drop flie falls, would prove a crocodile.
Outof my fight.— '

Defdemona. I will not ftay t'ofFend you, {%^W*'\

Lodovko. Truly an obedient lady ;
I do befeech your lordlhip call her ba.ck.

Othello. Mtftrefs !^

Def. My lord.

0th. What would you with her, Sir?

Lod. Who, 1, my lord ?

0/A. Aye — You did wiih^that I would make her turn.
Sir — ^flie can turn, and turn, apd yet go on ; *
And 'turn again — and fhe can weep. Sir, weep;.
And fhe*s obedient : as you fay obedient.

Very obedient proteed you in your tears— ?•

Concerning this^ Sir, — oh ! well painted paffion !
I am commanded home — ^et you away—*
rU fend for you anon — Sir, I obey the mandate.
And lyill return to Venice. Hence avaunt.

Othello^ Aa IV. Scene 6th.

0th.

f

r 6i ]

Otk How fhali 1 murder him, lago ?

Jago. Did you perceive how he laugh'd at his vice ?

OtL Oh ! lago !

/ago. And did you fee the handkerchief?

Oth. Was that mine ?

lago. Your's by this hand, and to fee how he prizes
Thie foolifh woman your wife — Ihe gave it him.
And he hath given it his whore.

0th. Oh ! I would have him nine years a killing.
A fine woman ! a fair woman ! a fweet woman !

lago. Nay, you muft forget that

Oth. Ay — let her rot, and perifh, and be damnM to
%ight, for fhe fhall not live. — No, my heart is turn'd to
ftone. I ftrike it, and it hurts my hand — oh ! the world
hath not a fweeter creature She might lie by an em-
peror's fide, and command him tafks.

lago. Nay, that's not your way

0th. Hang her, I do but fay what fhe is — fo delicate
with her needle — an admirable mufician — oh ! fee will
fing the favagenefs out of a bear.

OthelJoy Aft IV. Scene 5th,

Another obfervation fliould be attended to
in the reprefcntation of immoderate pafCons,
that their genuine fentiments ought to be hid,
or diffembled as much as poflible, and this
fhould be particularly obferved with refped to
criminal paffions ; a perfon never counfels the
commiffion of a crime in plain terms : . guilt
muft not appear in its native colours, even in
thought ; the propofal muft be made by hints,
and by reprefenting the adiion in fome fa-
vourable light. Of the propriety of fentiment
upon fuch an occafion, Shakefpeare, in the

t 6* 3

Temfe/i,. has ^ivcn us a beautiful example in
the ufurping duke of Milan's fpccch, advif-
ing Sebaftian to murder his brother, the king
of Naples*

Antonio. what might

Worthy Sebaftian — O what might— no more.
And yet methinks, I fee it In thy face
What thou fliould'ft be : th* occafion fpeaks thee.
And my ftrong imagination fees a crown
Plopping upon thy head*

Aa II. Scene ift.

But the moft perfe<ft illuftration of this
kind, is that of king John foliciting Hubert
to murder the young prince Arthur.

K. Jsbn. Come hither, Hubert. O my gen Je Hubert,
We owe thee much ; within thrs wall of flefli
\ There is a foul counts thee her crecjitor.

And with advantage means to pay thy love.
And, my good friend^ thy voluntary oath
Lives in this bofom, dearly cheriflied.
Give me diy hand, I had a thing to hj — -*
But I will fit it with fome better time.
By heav'jn\, Hubert, I'm almoft afham.*d
To fay what good refpe6t I have of .thee.

Hubert. Ym much bounden to your nxajefty.

K, yohn» Good friend, thou haft no caufe to fay fo ;'

Yet

But thou flialt have — and creep time ne'er io flow.

Yet it fhall come for mc to do thee good.

I had* a thing to fay — but let it go :

The fun is in the heaven, and the proud day.

Attended with the pleafurcs of the world,

j% all too wanton, and too full of gawds

To give me audience. If the midnight bell

^ Did

C ^3 3

Did with his iron tongue, and brazen mouth,

Sound one into the dmwfyrace of night ^

If this fame were a church-yard where we ftand.

And thou pQiTeiTed witkathoufand wrongs ; '

Or, if that furly fpirit melancholy . .\j ,

Had bak'd thy blood, and made it hcaTy-thidc^ ' .....'

Which elferuns trickling up and down the veins,

Making that Ideot laughter, keep mens eyes.

And ftrain their cheeks to idle merriment} ,

(A paifion hateful to my purpofes)

Or, if that thou couldft fee me without eyes.

Hear me without thine ears, and make reply

Without a-tongue, ufing conceit alQiic, ^

Without eyes, ears, and harmful founds of words ;

Then m defpight of broad-ey'd watchful day,

I would into thy hoiom pour my thoughts. • . ,

But ah, I will not— ^et 1 love thee well j . -

And, by my troth, I think thou lov'ft me well, , ,

Hubert, So well, that what you bid me undertake.
Though that my death wer? adj unft to the a(Jl, r ^

By heav'n I'll do't. '

K, John. Do not I know - thou would'ft ?
Good Hubprt, Huhiirtr-rHubprt, throw thine cy&
On yon young boy. — -ril tell thee what, the friend; ^ '^-yuf/
He is a very ferpent in my way, * ^

And wherefoe'er this fo»t jof mine doth* tread, .
He lies before me. • Do*ft thou vnderftand me ?
Thou art Juis keepers .*. .

King John^ A<ft III. Sceae 5ti|.

We come now to contraft thefe examples
with fentiments that z^^t^x faulty^ and the
iirft clafs we (hall begin with, are fentimcnt$
which accord not with the paffion^ and are
faulty, infomoch that they are fcrewed up
beyond the proper key.

Otbelh.

I H ]

Othello. ' O my foul's joy !

If after every tempeft come fuch calms.
May the winds blow 'till they have waken'd death J
And let the labouring bark climb hills of feas
Olympus high, and duck again as low
As hell*!s from heaven !

Othello, Aa II. Scene 6th^

However the above fentiments may be fug-
gefted by violent and inflamed paffion, they
are not fuited to the fatisfadlion, however
great, we feel lipon efcaping danger.

Another example of the fame kind.

Philajier. Place me, fome god, upon a pyramid

Higher than hills of earth, and lend a voice

Loud as your thunder to me, that from thence .

I may difcourfe to all the under world

The worth that dwells in him.

Philajier, Aft IV.

Sentiments too artful to be fuggefted by
fevere grief.

Jbneria. O no ! time gives encreafe to my affli£lions.
The circling hours that gather all the woes
Which are diffufed through the revolving year^
Come heavy laden with th' oppreffive weight
To me ; with me fucceffively they leave
Thefighs — the tears, the groans— the reftlefs cares.
And all the damps of grief, that did retard their flight j
They (hake their downy wings, and fcatter all
The dire collected dews on my poor head ;
Then fly with joy, and fwiftnefs from me.

Mourning Bridey h& I. Scene ift.

In

t H ]

In the fame play, Almeria feeing a dead
boc|y, whjch fhe takes to be Alphonfo's,
again falls into fentiments which are too at:*
tificial for the occafion .

Hid they, or hearts, dr eyes, that did this deed ?

Could eyes- endure to guide* fuch cruel, hands ? .., . *

Are not my eyes guilty alike with theirs.

That thus cati gaze, and yet not turn to ftone ?

— I do not weep !— the fprings of tears are 4ry*d,

And of a fudden, I atp calm, as if-^

All things were well-^ and yet my hufband's murthcredt

Yes, yes, I kxiQiwr to mourn, I'll fluice this heart,

The fource of woe, and let the torrent loofe.

. . A6k V. Scei^c iitii#

Sentiments which degenerate into point, or
conceit, however they may amufe an idle
hour, can never be the offspring of any fe-

rious, or important paflion. Thus Rowe,
who has been ih many parts fuccefsfiil in the
charader of Jane Shore, yet makes her, in
the following lituation, defcend into anti^
thejis and affeSiation, below the dignity of
her mind—

1 ■> Let me be branded for the public fcortl,

Turn'd forth, and driven to wander like a vagabond.

Be friendlefs, and forfaken, feek my bread

Upon the barren wild, and defolate wafte,

Fted on myjigbs^ and drink my falling tearsy

Ere I confent to teach my lips injuftice, '

Or wrong th« orphan who has none to fave him# ■

Jam Shorty Aft IV.

- • . . ■» t,

F Sentiments

'

i u ]

Sehlitwcnts introduced too carfy, or too
late; t«hen Bthiikra tdils feer ferikcr Prkdi^
of tSie danger flie was tn from fecr hufoancTs
threatening to murder laer, and whkSi otsig^t
naturaMy to have alarmed him j inflc44 <^^
thist he diiiblv^s ii^to that Idnd of trnderAtife
for his daughter, as if he had eke^j dalkered
her from danger.

PrimU. Caa^ft thou forgive me cA 017 ifellm faft I
*1?H he a c e forth Ise indeed a fiithery never,
Never more thus expofd, but cherifli diee.
Dear as the vital UraraKh 3iat feeds siy life)
iMu^ as ^ofe ept^ that weep in fondneis o'er thee :
Peace to thy heart.

ImiBoral fentimcnts expofed in tlieir native
colours^ inilead of being concealed, or dif-
guifed: thus lady Macbeth, projefting the
death of the king, has the following foli-
loquy. . /

■■ ■ ». ' The raiFen Jiiiyifelf 's not jioarfe

That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan

Under my battlements. Come all you fpirits

That tend on mortal thought^, unfex me here^

And fill me from the crown to the toe, topfiil

Of illrc<a cruelty — make thick my blood,

Stop up th' acceTs, and paflage to remorfe.

That no comjiundllous viiitings of nature

Shake my fell purpofe. Macbeth^ KSt I. Scene ytb*

This Ipeech we cannot think natural ; rfie
moft treacherous inurder, we hope, was never

per-

i

without compundlion ; in that ftate of mind^
it i$ fli never ^failing avMncp of Mfr^doidt, to
draw the thickeft veil over die moft wicked

aaion> anrf ft) gjOjeR^at^^t J)y atf i)>e ,cif cjWJ?-
ftances which iislagination caii iliggei); ; and

if the nilnd even c9.nnot tear di^guife, the

next attempt is to .tb;ui^ it.Qu^ from its ^ouo-

fel altogether, and i:«(b ifl ^qj? a^M» JWt^"

* out thouglA ; 4iii8 iail was her hufband^s *
method^

Strange things I h^e in hea^, thatjyill to hand.
Which muft Be a^ed:, ere tliev mufi ^/cann%' '

,1 ComPBi >^^9J^iofi, errs on the fame
princmle in the Double Dealer^ where Mafk-

* well, inftead of difguifirij^^ 6r.c,9l6uring his

crimes, ,^\m U^^ 9i '^ W %)^^ M^
lowing fGiiio<)uy«

Cynthiib let .% beauty fiil4^ ffijr cria;ies^ ^d ^^i^^o^

ever I commit of treachery, or de^ceit, /hjjl }p^}^^%^fo

me as a merit— treachery ! What treachery ? Love can-

•^ds afi .the W<b Pf ftifQ4ftfPi «pd ie$s »^ fighf ,ijflpn

^^^^ ^ ^ - j5,^ j/^ x>/tffcr, AaiL Scene -8-

, i(k^ ^ j*rHl #j?w yn'A *V»gP iffj?ojRblp*

j

F a Sentiments

[ « 1

Sentiments whkh are mere rant«
, Coriolaaus fyc^ng to bis modi^.

Wluit is this ?

Your knees to me ? to your correded fon ?
Then let the pebbtes on the hungry beach
FiUop tike ftariy then let the mutinous winds
&rike the proud cedars 'gsiinft the fiery fun i
Murd'ring im{K>9ibiIity, to make
What cannot be, flight ivork.

CorislankSf ASt V« Scene 3d,

Other examples of the fame kind.

C^Jiar* . ' Danger knows full well
That Caelar is tcMt, dangerous than he.
We were two lions littered in one day.
And I the elder and more terrible.

JuUm Cafar^ A& IL Scene 4th.

y^9iti£us. - But you— ere lov<e mifled your

wandering eyes.
Were fure the chief, and beft of human race,
FramM in the very pride, and boaft of nature.
So perfed, that the gods who form'd you, wonder'd
At their own ikill, and cried— —<* A lucky hit
Has mended our defign.^'

Not to (peak of the impiety of this laft fen-
tnmeoty it is ludicrous^ inflead of being
lofty.

Wc could have fwelled this laft clafs to an

immoderate fize, from the ravings of Lei^

inA the declamations of more modern dra-

matiftsj (numbers of whom have fcarccly

3 given

r

[ 69 ]

given fpecimens enoagh of tbdr onder*

ilanding, to be incident to poor Lee*$ mii^

fortune ;) — but this^ as well as all the other

clafles ofjauhy pafiages> we have ieleded from

the moft approved authors^ for the porpoie

of fhewingy what a neceffity peribns of the
greateft genius are uodctr, of correStuxg^ the

£rfl flights of imagination.

F3

CHAP.

[ 7* 1

. C A, H IT* iXw

Gf jy i c T i o N. '

TildUGfi tiic fable„ tlie manners^ and
the fentiments are, without doubt, '
the more confiderable parts of tragedy ; yet
an improper didtion renders the dialogue flat,
however elevated the fentiments may be ; and
though, to a critical mind, it doth not abfo-^
Jutely deilroy the ftrength of the other parts,
it, in general, throws fuch a languor over them,
as to conceal their beauties^, and very often
fupprefs their efFed,

Di(9ion, according to Ariflotle's ufual la-
conic, yet critical definition, is tie explication
of things by words ', hence elevated fentiments
require elevated language, tender fentiments,
words that are foft and flowing, plaintive
fentiments, humble and afFedting \ in fhort,
words being intimately connedted with the
ideas they reprefent, tne greateft harmony is
required between them ; and, as we have be^
fore obferved, that the fentiments ought to
be tuned to the paflion, fo the langua|;e (hould
te in unifon with both.

The firft ideas which rife in the foul, upoa
its receiving the imprefllon of foaie lively af-

fedtion;,

[ 71 ]
fedion^ and are commoDly called And--
xnents, have a power 4>f afie^ling Wf, tbdT :
txpTiE^fkd in the fimpleft tfirmfi> bexraaife they
fpcak the langmge oT the. heart; fimiKa,:
therefore, fi£k&s us, when {be &ys ki .thc-^
plaineft words, < , ,:

yame encore plus Ciaxa, que je ne^lms Au'-

I lovi my Cinna, more than I deteil An-;
guftus.

A fentimcnt would even ccafe to he fo mwi^-
ing, were it ^xprefied in magnificent terms^;
and with pompous fignres ; Othello^ for iii-«.
ilance, would not engage us fo imichL .as. he^
does, or £how us, at fo (hort a view> At?
combination of pail circumftances in hi%
mind s if (when reminded by Iagp> that as.
Defdemona deceived her father, fo ihemigttt
him) inftead of dropping that fimple, jiift
forcible expreffion, ^^ and fi fie did i" he wcrcr
to exprefs the fanie ientiment in^a figurativfi
. ftile ; afFeftation would then have difcovered
itfelf, after which adieu to the language of
the heart.

And here one general rule will hold good
in regard to diction ; where charaiSers ncdkie
remarks upon their own, and the fentiments
of others ; where recitals and defcriptionsare

F 4 to

to be introduced J and, in fliort, all that Is
nbt properly fentiment, require, as much as
the nature of the piece, and probability will
admit of, to be rcprefented to us by images,
capable of fixing thcmfdves in our imagi-
oation*

We except, however, from this general
rule, the recitals of prodigious events made
juft after they have happened ; 'tis likely, that
an ocular witnefs to thefe events, fuch as
dught to be employed in the narration, was
ftruck with a furprifefrom which he has not
yet recovered j it would be therefore, con-
trary to the rules of probability, for him to
ufe fuch figures in his recital, as occur not to
i perfon that is frightened, and who has no
thoughts of being pathetic; befides, thofe
prodigious events require the poet's attention
to procure, as much as poffible, the fpcSa-*
tor's afient j and the moft certain way of ob-
taining it, is to give the recital in the plaineft
terms, and fiich as are the leafl: capable of
rendering the perfon who fpeaks, liable to be
fbfpcdled of exaggeration.

Bi|t a$ we have, in the preceding chapter,
niuflrated the theory of fentiments by ex-*
amp}es, we fliall purfue the fame method in
this, as the moft eligible for perfpicuity and
inftrudtion.

The firft example we fhall give, is ah oh-*
feryation of Ariftotle'is uJpon Homer, when re-..

pre^

I

r 7s ]■

4

prcfen ting the terrible npife which enraged
waters make ; he fays, ** the rivers roared^
Now fays Ariftotle, veryjujflly, {hould any
one fay " the rivers m^f^/," fuch an altera-
tion would change a choice and noble phrafe,
into one as proportionably mean and little.

Pleafant emotions which elevate, or fwell
the mind, fhould vent themfelves in ftrong
^ epithets and figurative expreflions, but hum-

bling and difpiriting paffions ajffc<3: to ipeak
plain 5 for figurative expreffion, being the ef-
itOi of an enlivened imagination, cannot be
the language of anguifli, or diftrefs. Otway,
ffenfibic of this laft, has painted a fceric of
diftrefs in colours, finely adapted to the fub-
jeft; there is fcarce a figure in.it, except a
Ihort ^nd natural fimile, with which the
fpeech is introduced.

Belvidera, talking to her father of her huf-

band ;

Think you faw what pafs'd at our laft parting j '
Think you beheld him like a raging lion,
pacing theeartt, and tearing up his fteps.
Fate in his eyes, and roaring with the pain
Of burning fury \ think you faw his one hand,
Fix'd on my throat, while the extended other .
Grafp'd a keen threatn'ing dagger ; oh! 'twas thus
We laft embraced, when trembling with revenge.
He dragg'd me to the ground, and at my bofom
prefented horrid death j cried out «* my friends.

Where

r 74 3

V^heHitt mf ftikn&s }*" fiir<*e^ w«p*, tstg'^, tlkreuen%

For he yet IqvM, and that dear love prcfervcd me
Td this laft trial of a father's pity —

Feni'ce Prefervedj Ad V,

To fay^ in plain terms, that there is no
great merit iiv gaining the affed:ions of a nian
\irho is of an amorous diipofition ; but that it
is a fine thing to make a perfbn fall in love^
who has never fhewn zvry propenfity towarda
this paifGon, would be only a common truth
which would hardly engage our attention ^
but when Racine puts this very truth into the
mouth of Ariciay the thought, trivial as it:
is^ is formed by his expreflions into an elo-^
quent fpeech.

Pour mot, je furs plus Here, ct fuis la gloire aifee
D'arracher un hommage a miile autres ofiert,
£td'entrerdans un coeurdetoutes parts ouvert.
Msis de faire flechir un courage inflexible
t)e porte, la douleur dans une ame infenfible
D'enchaincr un captiff de fes fers etonne.
Centre un joug qui lui plait vainement mutine
Voila ce qui me plait, viola ce qui m*irrite.

T R A K S L A T I O K.

But I thofe eafy conquefts can dcfpife.
To force a tribute from a vulgar breaft.
Or ftorm a heart that's open on all fides.
But to fubdue a proud obdurate mind.
To give afenfe of pain to cruel fouk^
To lead a captive at his chains furpfis'd.
Rebelling vainly 'gainft a pleafing yoke.
This is my chief ambition, and delight.

For

I

[ 75 1

]?dr a iJtlTbh llkeWife 15% fiffipty, that Akx-^
andef was d pefJliUjlie^ loVef j fflcJx a ehaftlC-
tcr W6uld have H6thing ri6t<r, df affefitirtg in
it, b^caofe it his feeefl applicable td rtiariy,

and th« manner of ^«r</»z^ if) leiiveis no c&ti*
fiderable impreflion; yet Lee fufalim^s this
thought to one of the greatefl: txiauties of a\A
langua^i in the following fingle line :

^ Then he would talk !— — Good gods, how be would

As thefe ffeW fpttittictts Will be fuflitient td
ihcw the neceflafy Cfnion between fentifnefiti
and diSiion, we fliall add foine examples
where this union is violated.

Of didion elevated above the tone of tho

fcntiment.

7t(&^, ' ' ■ Swift a§ ocCafion 1 ^

Mj^felf Will fly ; andtarlier thah the morn . '

WA« tlifefe tb fteedohi, Ntf^ 'tis Utc 5 and yet
Some n^S( few minutes pafb arHv'd, which feem'd
T^o fliake the temper of the king— Who knows
What racking cares difeafe a mortarch's bed ?
Or love, that late at night, ftill lights his latnp.
And ftrikes his rays through dufk, and folded lids
FoiW^inl; itft, in^ ftfcteh his i^d^ i^ak*;
And force their balls abroad tot ibis dead hour.

Mourning Bride^ KGt III. Scene 4.

The commoneft obferver canttot btit fee^ -in
this inftance, that the diftion is by far too

pompous.

1: 76 . 1

pompous and laboured^ for defcribiag fi>
fimple a circumfta^cc as, abfence of fleep.

As imagery, and figurative exprcflion. are
difcordant in* the higheil degree* with the
agony of a .0K>ther, who is? deprived of two
hopeful fdbi by a brutal murder ; therefore
the: following paflage is a fpecimen of dic-
tion too light and airy for fo iptenfe a
paf&on.

^een. ■ Ah ! my poor princes ! Ah tasf tender

babes !
My unbloWh flowers, hew appealing Tweets !
If yet your gentle fouls fly in the air.
And be notfix'd in doom perpetual.
Hover about me with your airy wings, ,
And hear your mothec^s lamentation.

Ricbard IIL Aft IV. Scene 4.

A thought that turns upon theexpreffion in-
ftead of the fubjed, commonly called a pl^
of words, is unworthy of that compofitioa
which pretends to any degree of elevation; yet
. Shakeipeare has made this facrifice to the age
he lived in, in many inftances, particularly in
the following :

Laertes upon his £rft hearing of his HAer^s

death.

Laertes. Alas ! then (bq is drown'd»

Suem. Drewn'd,

Laerifu

"C -77 ]

Jk'^eriH, Toq much of water hadft thw {^OOnQplidia,
iV»d therefore I forbid mjf tears,

. ' . Hamlet^ HA IV. Scene laJL

j^ntony /peaking of Julius Cafar^ ,!

ffunrld 1 thou wa'ft tbfc forefl: of this hart x

And this, indeed, O worldy the A<ftfr/ of thee*

How like a deer, ftricken by maAy princes,

J>oft thou here ^e,l . „ .

Julius Cajar^ hd^Vn.. Scene j.

But though, Sba^e^earc has thul defcendcd
to a play df : wordls^ Jae: has foq^ptimcs intro-
duced it for the marking a peculiar charadter,
^ in the folio winjgpaflage :

• • - ' - . ■ ' i i i . -T . ^ * ' . • - •

Kit^pbUip^ "IJVhat'ftfllftoujtoy? lopkin theiady's
face, , . • ' , ' , '

Lewis* I do my lord, and in her eye t find a wonder, ' or
a wondrous mttacle, — .Theihadowof myfelf forni'd in h^
eye; beiilg but the ibadqw of yonrj/Z';;,
Becomes a.yfe»» and makc^s^ your fon a fliadow.

1 do proteft I never lov'd myfelf,

'Tilliww^.Uifix'd I beheld myfelf
Drawn in the flattering table, of hejr eye.

FmdQonhridge. Drawn iii the flattering tableof her.^yc !
Hahg'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow!
And cfuarter'd in her heart ! he doth efpy

~ HimCdf lovVs traitor, this is pity now ' . ,

That hangM, and drawn, and quartered, there fhould be.

In <uch a love, fo vik a iQut ^s he.

King John^ A<51 II. Scene 5.

I-

One fhonld' think it unnecefFary to enter a
caveat againfl expreflions which; have go
meaning, or, at leaft, no diftinft meanings

and

C 78 1

^d yet fomewliaC ef tkis kind m^ ht found
cyen amongfl: pthcrwife rcfpeftable writers.
We ihall give the following ipecimen from
DrydeOi^ A

Ckopatrd ^ifffiionm^ Cbarmitm of AnUn^s

con,

C&f . Nqw* ^hat new8^ my Charmion ?
Will he be kind ? and will he not forfakc me ?
ikp>JtpHve, ordic? ^lay, 4oI,fye? ,
Or aai I dead ? for when he gave his ^nfw«!r; '
" Fate took the *^d, aad &cn I tir'iiWdied. v »

f-ui

I ' '

But nothing can be finer ridiculed than Ait
k/i JPecitrieii, in the foWo^iiig coftpleit i>f the

witty UuM. of ^'^^^g!^^* .v.. -

Wa'ftnot unjuft to ravHhliicneelierbwaAi,' ^-—
And in life's ftead, to leanre us nbaghtfeut^^.

• SAtarJalt ASbW.Seent x.

In fliort,— <jKS?«;» canfiot be better wovnd up
than in the following fhort definition of k,
given by Lord Kdiiaes -, to whofe cpticd pep*
we likewife holdourfdyes obliged ^9f fcvci^il
of the dramatic quotations in t^s 4iiid.tiie ^-

ceding chapter.

** Language may be conficfered as the dreis
of thought i and where the one is not foiled
to ihn ©ther, we are fen^i|>le 0^ ithe iufw-
gruity, in lbs iGunc mm9^^ M iitee ^ jjj^e

t '79 ]

« dreflcd like a fop, or a peafant like a man
of quality/'

It will be ncccflary, liowevcr, before we
dofe this fabjedl, to fay fometfcing of that
ipecics of vcrfc which is generally held to be
beft fuited to tragedy.

Ariftotle lays it down tis a nrfe, *^ that 'tis
beft to write tragedy in that kind of veric
that is the kaji fach, or which is nearcft
profe."

Amongft the antients, this was the lambkh-,
with ns, it is hlank verje % but as the wits of
Charles the Second^s day s» moftly wrote dieir
plays in rhyme ; aaid, as there are not wtot-
ing, even in otsr d^s, fome advocates tbr
this fxiethod, as wdli as fome praidiitioQecs in
it, we fhall make a few general obfervadoas
on it's impropriety.

It is a matter of little coniibquencej whe-
ther we received this manner laf writing ^'-
gtnally from our own countrymen^ <^ 1^
French, v4io pra<flife it to this day, Oae
thing we are fare of, that before Shakefpeace s
time, our anceftor-s itl w«>te in this way ; or^
to {peak more propeily, knew no better ; but
as it was referved for this favourite chiid of
nature, to deftroy every thing which miii-
tated agatnft his parent, fo rJbyme fell a faci«-

6ce, in common, with the other abfuniities of

.' .

the drama ; the authorities ^ -Fletcher and

©ca

r 8a J

Ben Jonfon fupportcd Shakefpcare ; and
cept the (hort revival of it in the rhyming
reign of Charles 11. when the mufes had not,
for fome time, recovered themfelves from tl\c
ruins of monarchy, it has . ever fince been
juftly banifhed our ftagc*

And indeed> vfhen we confidcr the many
obj^dions that lie againft the ufe of rhyme on
the flag?, the wonder will not be, how wc
came to leave it off, but how we could ever
fubmit to it ? for, as a play is an imitation
of nature, a,nd jQnce no mail, without pre-
. meditation, Ipeaks in rhyme, neither ought
he to do it on the ftage j to be fure, the fs^icy
may be there elevated to a higher pitch of
thought than it is . in ordinary difcourfe, as ;
there is a probability, that men of excellent
and quick parts, may fpeak noble things ex*
tempore ; but thofe thoughts are never, fet-
tered with numbers without ftudy, and there-
fore, it muft be unnatural to reprefent the
moft free way of fpeaking under that which

is moft conftrained.

... ,

But, it is faid, the quicknefs of repartees
in argumentative fcenes, receive an ornament
from verfe ; now, what is more unreafonablc
t^an to imagine, that a man fliould not only
conceive the \vit, but the rhyme too oa a
fiidden ; this following of him who Ipoke
before, both in found and meafure, is fo gr^t
a happinefs, that we muft, at leaft, fuppofe

the:

t 81 }

the Dramatis Perfonas to be born poets ; if
we do not thls^ it will look rather like the
defign of two, than the anfwer of one; it
will appear diat your adors hold intelligence
together ; that they perform their tricks, like
fortune-^tellers, by confederacy, and that great
maxim of all profeflions, :

*'* jirs ^ celare artem^'

will be entirely dcftroyed. It will not fcrvc
for an pbjedion that carrier any weight with
it I that a play is known to be a play, howr
ever you manage it^ and confequently the dia«>
logue of two, or more perfons, underflood t9
|)e the language but of one poet ; for though
we Ipow we are to be deceived, and we dc-
^re ^o be iOf no reafoiKtble man was ever yet
deceiyedji but, with 9 probability of truth;
' thus we fufEciently underfland^ that the fcenes
which reprefejit cities, and countries to us,
ate no( really fuch, but only painted on
boards and canyafs | but ibjdl that expufe the^r
want of compdfition and cqlouring ? oyght
they not rather to be laboured wi^h fp muph
the more diligence and exadhiefsi on account
of their principal ufe being to help the ims^-
jgination, which is only tQ b9 deceived under
the ftrongeii appearances of truth ?

Q If

If rhyirii 1$ Jrica^blfe of cxpf^ffittg ' th^'
greatdl thoughts natuf ally, the k)#4ft it can v
not without a great deal of ibfurdity'; wHat^
fs^ore uhbefitting the majefty ^ Verfe, thaiV
to cail a ferva*nt, or bid a <fo6r'- be ftiiit irt
ihyV&l? ' there as an 4if of ridicule in* dreffifigi
up fo familiar a comiiiand in • the dignity of
meafure, fufficient to ijnrealize the dialogue
which follows, -and make the hioft iniportant
(circumftance appear bombaftical, yet fomo
of our greateft poets, ^ who h4\rc ' written tra-?
^Mie§ in rhyitae, have b'een forced on flits risj-i
fef-aMe/neceffity. ' . ^ 1 . : .

'-^We are fufJicfientTy aware. However,, that
fA eondehfirfing^ifie-prauftlce 6f rhyfrie, we Ha^i
Tome refpe<ffafeTeia^'tfadrities* A^ainift us^ aWA
ih-^particular Mr, Diyden, one of the grealeft
^^dets this country c?an Soaft of i^ b^ ^; oh ttife
kint fi'de, tijc cftJdtffll of^'air^ ifAri'ietiflSb
11 ever fo formidably fuppcfrtefl; can* ntlvef^iMfeKfe
^ff lefs fo ; fo oh khe othbti it ^bii\ ftiir to f »v
'Viriigate wh^ita^eiHeritalcatii^ mzf ponttirf
"4iut€ to thatfH^>pbFt, •' •

^•'' Jt is alloweil, 'Ohttll'haddl^' nhat'Jthe: gfea(
!^^iltength*of Nir. DryHcn^s genius began to
-flhfold itfelf rather late, in life.; in Miltc4's
time, (whdn Dryden was between thirty an4
forty) that great man, who was* acquainted
^ith him^ would never allow hipj to be more

f

[ »3 ]

than a happy verjifier\ his writings then,
though we will not fay that they abfolutely
confirm this report, yet they, m fome re-
fped, favour it; as his beft plays wer,c
vrritt^ between forty aird fifty, and his Alex-^
anders Feaji, wliich many call his Chef
dOeuvrCy at the very advanced age of between
fixty and feydaty ; from tiicfc fadls then, we
m«y conolude^ that upon his ontfet in the li--
tcrary world, .(which ,was abput the time of
the reftoration) he was rather zfoU&wer than
a leader^ of the diama ^ fo that rhyme being
^ £|lfe tafte of thc^e times, and his talents
lying ftropgly on that fide, he became a
praditioner fromy^T/^ie?/!, and was fupported
in it f^m mcUmtion ; when his judgement,
howevcTf ipatured, it is more than probable
he faw his error, but his pride would not
fuficr hifn to recant^ as fuch a recantation
muft be attended with the overthrow of a
great number of his works j which, on the
general credit of hi5 name, wiere held in re-^
putatipn* Hence he wrote his eflay on 4rai
inatic poetry, principally to vindicate the au-^
lihority o/i rhyixve s but fiich is the Irrefiftible

Ibrce of.trm:fa| that even in this eflay, the
«-guments that he has raifed againft it, he wais
4iot able himfelf to throw down ; fo that he
became a dupe to his vanity, at a tinie that
he endeavoured moftly to guard againft it, by
the involuntary force of his Judgement,

G a CHAP,

t 8+ ]

CHAP. XI.

()/"/i6^ Three Unities j — Action, TiI^Bi

and Place,

WH EN we confider the chain of caufeg
. . and efiedts in the material world, in-,
dependent of purpofe, defign, or thought,
^efind a number of incidents, in fucceflion,
without begioning, . naiddle, or end: every
jhing that happens 15, in difierent refpe<9:Si
J>oth a caufe, " and an effedt, • being the ejSFedt
of what goes befpre, .and the c^ufe of what
follows i one incident, .may affedl us more,
another lefs, but all of them important, or
triyial, are fo many link3 in the univerfal
phain j which the mind, in viewing, cannot
fettle iiUipiately upon anyone, but is carried
^long in the train, without any clofe«

But when the intelledlual world is taken
undef view, in conjundlion with the mate?
rial, the fcene is varied. Man ^dls with de-:
liberation and choice ; he ^ims at fome end,
fuch as richer, cqnqueft, patriotifm, 6^« he
propofes mean^, and lays plans tP attain the
end propofed. Jlere arp a number of faifts,
gf incidents Je^ding to the end in view j thcj

whole conn^ded into one thain^ by the rela^
tion of caufation i in running over a feries of
fuch fz^s, or incidents, we cannot rcil upoii
any one, becaufe they are prefented to us as
nieans only, leading to feme end, but we
reft with j&tisfadtion upon the ultimate events
becauie there, the purpofe, or aim of the
chief peribn, or perfbns is brought to a
final condufion. This indicates the be«
ginning, the middle, and the end^ of what
Ariftotle calls an entire adion ^ the ftory na*
turally begins with defcribing thoie circum-x
ftances, which move the diftinguifhed perfon
to form a plan, in order to compais Cotat de-*
fired event : the profecution of that plan, and
the obftru£tions, carry the reader into the
heat of action ; the middle is, properly,
where the a£tion is moft involved ; and the
end is, where the event is brought about, and
the plan accompliihed.

We have given the foregoing example of a
plan crowned with fuccefs, becaufe it affords
the cleareft conception of a beginning, a
middle, and an end^ in which cbnfifts unity
cf aHion ; and indeed ftrider unity cannot
be imagined than in that cafe : but an adtion
may have unity, or a beginning, middle,
and end, without fo intimate a relation of
parts; as where the cataftrophe is different

G I from

r ^ I

from what IS ihteiidecf ot defittd> ^Whichfre- ■
quen tly happens m our beft tragedies .

If unity of aftion be a capital beauty in af
fable, imitative of human affairs> a phiraKty
of unconnefted fables diuft be a^capitd cfefeft.
For the fake of variety, we induce an un-
der-plbt that is connedted with the principal
event; biit two unconnefted^ evehts are a
great deformity, and k leflens the defer-
mity but very little to engage the feme ac-
tors in both ; in ihort, a play anaiysSed^ is a
chain of conniei^ed fads, of which each (q&m
makes a link; each fcene, Ticcorcfingly) ought
to produce fome incident relative to the cata<^
ftrophc, by advancing, or retarding ftj; a fe^e

that produces no incident, (^nd for that rea-
fon may be called Barren J ought not to be
indulged, becaufe it breaks, or at leaft fuf-
pends, the unity- of adlion, and the cham
would be complete without it. It will be no
juftification to fay, that they help to difplay
charafters ; it were better, like Dryden,
in his dramatis perfona^ to defcribe them
before-hand, which would not break the
chain of adion ; but a writel^'df genius has
iio occafion for fuch artifice-, he can diQ)kjr
the charaifters of his perfonages^ much more
to the life in fcntiment and aftioB; How
fuccefsfuHy is jhis done by Shakefpeare, ia

whole

I^hsif^^&sks there isfcareely to' be fpt^wl.l
fiflg[U fe4rrfl« ft^iip, I . . >

; : JJpga the wtiQlfe It appears, that all the

incidents m a jlr^9iatie fable, qwght to

-iwve ? ufkMtual C0npe^n, by their com-
-XQoa rektipa to the ^r4n4 event j and in
;,this xelation confijfts . t^^ vm%Y dB Ac*

TION* > , )

How fair the Unities of time apd /A/^? are ,h

' cflcatjal, is a giipfticm of greater intricacy ;

thefc unities, wcfc ftiiftly ohferved ia the Gre-

cianiand Roman. theatres^ and they are incul-*

cated bgr sht Fi^ench .mi -Englifh criticSi as

eilcntialj toxvery dmnztic c6mpofi]tion ; in

' theory* tfacfe unities are ^fo acknowledged

by our bell poets, tho; their praflice feldom

. corrclponds ; they ije .often i^jrced to take

^ liberties,. which. they pretend not tojuftify,

■ againft the practice of the Greeks and Ro-

, mans, and againft the fojemn. deqifion of their

own countrymen : but,, in the profecution of

this fubjedk, we ihall enquire, whether we

are under a Aijid neceflity to copy the ancients

in thefe two unities ?. and whether our critics

are not guilty of a, miilake, in admitting no

- greater latitude, in time and place than w^s ad-

- mitted in Greece and Rome.

A review .of ^e Grecian drama, cor^par^d
•- with our own, may, perhaps, ajSift us in this

G,4 enquiry;

«v«

[ «8 ]

•nquiry. We have before ofcferved, that tra-
gedy in Greece, was derived from the hymns
in prjiife of Bacchus, which were fung in
parts by a chorus : Thefpis, to relieve the
fingers, and^ for the fake of variety, intro-
duced one aftor, whofe province it was to ex-
plain hiftorically the fubjed of the fbng, and
who occafionally reprefented one, or other
^ perfbnage ; Efchylus introducing a iecond

ador, formed the dialogue, by which the per-
formance became dramatic, and the adors
were multiplied, when the fubje£t reprefented
made it iiecefTary ; but ftill the chorus, which
gave a beginning to tragedy, was confidered
as aii efTential part of its conftitution. The
ftrft fcene generally unfolds the preliminary
circumftances that lead to the grand dvent,
and this fcene is, by Ariftotle, termed the
frohgue\ in the fecond fcene, where the ac-
tion properly begins, the chorus is introduced^
which, as originally, continues upon the ftage
during the whole performance; the chorus
frequently mix in the dialogue, and when the
dialogue happens to be fuipended, the cho-
rus, during the interval, are employed ia
finging. Sophocles adheres to this plan reli-
gioufly ; Euripides is not altogether fo cor-
xtQi \ in fome of his pieces, it becomes ne-
ceflary to remove the chorus; but when that
unufual flep is rifqued, matters are fo ordered^

. as

I 89 ]

«s to make their abfence but momentary, nor
does the removal of the chorus interrupt the
reprefcntation ; they never leave the ftage
of their own accord, but at the command of
fome principal perfi^nage, who conftantly
waits dieir return.

Thus the Grecian drama is a continued
reprefentation without any interruption^ a
circumftance that merits attention. A con-
tinued reprefentation without a paufe, afibrds
no opportunity to vary the place of adlion,
nor to prolong the tin^ of the adion beyond
that of the reprefentation ; to a reprefenta**
tion, therefore^ fo confined in place, an4
time, the foregoing reafoning is ftridUy ap-
plicable; a real, or feigned aSiion that is
brought to a conclufion, after confiderable
intervals of time, and frequent changes of
place, cannot, accurately, be copied in a re-
prefentation that admits no latitude in either ;
hence it is, that the unities of place^ and
time were, or ought to have been (tridly ob-
ierved in the Grecian tragedies, which are
..made necef&ry by the very conflitution of
their drama ; for it is abfurd to compofe a
tragedy that cannot be juftly reprefented.

Thofe critics, therefore, who for our
drama pretend to eflablilh rules founded on
the practice of the Greeks, do not fee that
the unities of place and time^ fo much vaunt-
ed

t 9^ -1
td of, were in Greece a matter of neceffifjr^
not cTioice, and that if "We fubmit to fuch
rules, it muft be from choice, not necefi^ty ;
and this will appear evident upon taking a
view of the conftitution of our drama, which
differs widely from that of Grece, but whc-
ther, more, or Icfs perfect, is a different
pbint.

By dropping the chorus in our drama, an
opportunity is afforded to divide the repre-
fentation by intervals of time, or ads, dur-
ing virhich the ftage is totally evacuated, and
the fpedtacle fufpended; this conftitution
qualifies us for fubjedls ipread through a
wide fpace both of time, 'and place; the
time fuppofed to pafs, during the fufpenfion
of the reprefentation, is not meafured by the
time of the fufpenfion, nor is any connexion

formed, between the box we fit in, and the
place where things are fuppofed to be tranf-
aded in our abfence; by which means, many
fubjeds can be jullly reprefented in our
theatres, that were excluded from antient
Greece.

But this dodrine may be better illuftrated
by an example. Let us fuppofe, five hiftorical
pidures, (the hiftory of Alexander's battles
by Le Brun) each of thefe pidures refemUes
an ad in one of our plays ; there muft ne-
cefTarily be the ftrideft unity of place, and

time.

tiittfi, in eacli picture, arid the fame neceflity
requires thefe two, unities during eath a6l of
a play, becaufe during an adl, there is no in-
terruption Jn the fpeftacle ; now when we
View ia fucceffion, fuch a number of pic-
tures, we have no difficulty to conceive that
months, or years, have pafied between the*
events exhibited, in two different pidures,
though the iftterruption is imperceptible in
paffing our eye from the one to the other,
ind we have as little difficulty to cohcelve a
change of place, however great ; ui whieh
^iew, there. ri5. truly no difference between
five 2i&s of a modern play, and five fuch
J)idluces.

When the reprefentation is fuipended, we
can^ with the greateft facility fuppofe any
fcngth of time, or any change of place; the
ipedator it is true, may be confcious, th^t
the real time, and place, are not the fame,
with what are employed in the reprefenta-
tion ; but this is a work of refle&ion, and
by the fame line, he may alfo be confcious
that Garrick is not king Lear, that the play-
hpufe is not Dover ClifTa, nor the noife he
hears thunder, and lightning; in a wofd,
after an interti^ption of reprefentation^ it is
not more difHcult for a fpeftator to imagine a
new place, or a different time, than at the
commencement of the play to imagine him-

felf

L 92 }

felf at Rome, or in a period of time, twd
thoufand years back ; and indeed it muf^ ap-
pearTidiculous that a critic, who is . willing
to hold candle-light for fun-fliine^ and fbme
painted canvafles for a palace, fhould afFedt
{o much difficulty in imagining a latitude of
f^e, or time, beyond what is neceflary in the
reprefentation. \

There are we acknowledge, fome cffc&s
of great latitude in time that ought never to
be indulged in acompofition for the theatre;
nothing can be more abfurd, than at the end
of the play to exhibit a full grown perfbn^
who appears a child ^t the beginhing; the
mind rcjefts, as contrary to all probability,
fuch a latitude of time ; the greatefl change
from place to place, cannot have the fame
bad effect -, in the bulk of ; human affairs,
place is not fo very material, as the mind
when occupied with any interefting event, is
little attentive to minute circumftances, be**
caufe they fcarcely make any imprefllon.

But though we have thus taken arms to
refcue fome of our beft poets from the def-
potifm of antidnt critics, we would not be
underftood to juftify liberty without any re-
ferve. An unbounded licence with rela-
tion to place, and time, is faulty for a reafon
that feems to be overlooked ; that it feldoms
fails to break in upon the unify of aSiim. In

the

J

['93 ]
fhe ordinary courfcjof human affairs, fingle
events^ fuch as are fit toi>e Kprefented on
the ftage, are confined to a narrow ipot, and
generally iemploy'no great extent of- time,
we accordingly^ feldom find ilriS: unity of
adion: ih a dramatic compofition, where any
remarkiil)le latitude ds indulged in thefe par*
ticulaffj we mufl fay, further, that a com**
pofitirm which eniploys but one place, and
requires not a grtitot length of tin)?, thaa
U necefiary for tHe-feprefentation, 'is To much
the toore, ^perfeift, hiecaufe the confining an
event within fo narrow bounds, contributes
to the unity 6f a6tio», and alfo prevents that
labour, however flight, :^hich the mind muft
undergo, in imagining frequent changes c^
place, and many intervals of time : but ftill
we mufl be fo f^ ah advocate for theoiodems^
that fuch limitation of time, and plate, as
was net:eflary in the Grecian drama, is no
guide to us, and therefore, though it may
gdd,. in point of rule^ one beauty more to the
compofition, it is: ^t befl but a refinement^
whidi may juiUy grva place to a thoufand
l)eauties niore fubflantial i and we may add^
t)>at it is extremely difficult (if not impradi-
cable) to contradi; within the Grecian limits,
any fable fo fruitful of incidents in number,
^d variety, as to give full fcope to the fluc-
|uation of paflioz).

It

I 34: I

It may nosv . appear^ > jthat rmtia^. mbar, pA
ibfi wditk^of piacfy andt/iiizr, ::npDii th^ faoio
looting with tiie . u/i^:ifl^:. jsSbo
tbem aU'eqwk% eSewii^.hfisb not attended
ifi> tbenatiu'£> .And.cDtiftifliai^n^ .the modem
(irama ; !if they admits jan '>iitf0mipted ' mfia^
ieatatiofi;,. with y&iitii no Miiiai 6nis faulty
itts tpkkly ^bfiiird'tto,x^njkmaitSt^^
advant^e,^ dial ::of teipic^sTAmg » ^mmsy : ia-^
larctftii^.riib}ecte 9»:iuded fn^m tte OscQ{an
jEage I (if eth^e Mtdt ^nm&Ak » 're^nna;^<»iy
B^y.fi0t:cefloi» thfi.ati^tidntic^pqsy^'and tiatf
toti/ent cootimuity'df\a6himii?' flJoierc ^s:^inrrw
laitily ao jQ^mm> for ,to admiit an interrtip;
^o» M^ithftitf . T^a^iSlg f r^ the flf ia uMdci
«£^ace,-^iwJ tipi^; i?»;i»;cfife9;,^: tp load as

dfitf^^ri^Q^ t^ tite :&ai]Sr time;^ to rwidi4iold
feom «s itis «iv.a«rtagQEu r:-:. ." ![ •
, The qjiqftion thexefote rccmci j to: this;
father m^ inodfi1be:.an ikopx&sfcnutnt, •or
lH>lt f Afid iQ oi^c to ^ .coh;{>iiia£ive t^^
fom^ particukrs m^ft be^pnomiifed/ When a
pky hegia$> jw^ hfve i]s> diiffiuquU^ to adjuft
fiurimagti^tioo (|o tfiiei i(c£ne of .adjon^ hawi-
evtr djiilant it he 4atict>e^ or. in fidace $ be«^
i^aufe ..wie kpovf thatrtObic play is a Deprefenta^
tion <^ly ; ow ^tuatiqp is veiy different after
we are engaged ; it is f h^ perfei^i^on of r&-
prefentation to l](I4e itfelf j^ :tQ impofe upoA

thd

t^e fb6€tEitof9 and to produce in him an !m^
jM^ffiortof reality; J;>oj;anyinternipjioAattriihi*
l«es that imprefiioii, by roufing him out of hi»
waking dream, and unhappily rcftoring hin*
to his fehfes J fo difiicuk it is to fupport the
impreffim of reality, : that much fli^tar in^
ferraptiwis than th^^ interval between two
,a€te ^e fufficieiit to diffolye the ^charm , in
0fc 'fifth aft of th» Mourning. Bride, the
^rod -firft fcenesf are in a-roomof ilate, th*
fourtfc in St prifoiiy' and the change ia only
OToratcd -by thefhifting a fc3cnc, buthowcvey
quick the tranfitiqn may be, it h impradi^
jcahle to impdfe upon the fpeSators, fo as to
. jEttake thenj conceive ttiat they are adtually
ieaifried from the paliice to the prifoh 5 they
immediately recolkv dia?: both are imagine
jtiy, and the wh^e a fiftion.

From thefe premifes <Mc vriU be naturally
led, at'firftview, to ptoijounce the frequent
Interritptions in the modern drama to be an
ynperfedtion i it will occur, ** That every
intcrruptidn rnuft have the effcSt to baniih
the dream of reality, and with it tp baniih
fiur concern, i^hich canttot fubfiO: while we
^tt cOfi&ioO^s that all is a fi<^ion ; and there-
:|^re> that- in the modern drama, fufficient
fimt is not alPorded for flu^ation, and fwel--
l^ng of pa0ion^ Jik? wha( is afforded in that
• of

C 96 1

€»f Greece, where there is no interruption.^
This reafoning it muft be owned, has a ipe*
cious appearance 'till we examine it with
doier attention*

„ In looki ng narrowly into the aritient drama^
wc find that though the reprefentation is
never interrupted ; the principal adion is
iufpended not lefs frequently than in the mo-
dern drama i the only difference is, that, in
iht former, when the a<^ion is fuQ)ended, as
it is at the end of every aft, opportunity is
taken of the iijterval, to employ the chorus in
fingrng ; hence it appears, ^ that the Grecian
^ntinuity of reprefentation cannot, have the
cffedt to prolong the impreffion of reality; to
{laniA that impreffion, a fufpenfion of the
adion, whilft the chorus is employed in fiqg-
ing, is no lefs operative than a (otaj fulpenr
-fion of thel-qprefentation.

But to open a larger view of this queiHoft,
it will not be very difficult to (hew, that a cour
tinned reprefentation, without a fingle paufe
even in the principal adtion, fo far from an
advantage^ would be an imperfeddon ; and
that a reprefentation, with proper paufes, is
better qualified for moving the audience, and
giving livelier impreffions. This will be
more evident from the fpUowing confide-
rations.

t w V

. \mptmii^ of nA)Xf $ igbr wkenb tlie i^tits ar d*
texhouAed byddft ^eDii^> iml t>y fh^ agi*^-

ration of paffion, an lin^afinef^ enfuesj; Which
nevef faik to baniftt the wakitig dream* NoW
fuppofiil^^ thiat an z^ reqiiilres ^s much timei
as cart b6emplojhed> with ftriiSi attentroh, iipt^
feny incident^ (a fiippofition that cannot be faf-
ifrom truth) it follows, that the impreffipn
iof reality would not be prolonged beyond die
tlm* df an adk> even fuppofing a ccftitiniie^^
reprefetttatidn % if fo, a continued Wprefeftta^
tioii of longer aidurance than art adl, infte^d
tof ^ving afcope to the fwctt of the piflipflS^'
Would over-ftrain the attention, and {Produce
a total abfehGc of mind. In this refpe<ft> thd
four paufcs have a fine efiffedl *, for by afford W
to the audience a feafonable refj)ite, when the
rmprcffion of reality is ^otoe, they relieve die,
ftiind ftoM its fatigue, arid confeq^uently pre-
vent a wandering of thought, poffibty at thflt
^eiy time of the moft interefting fcenesr/

In one article, indeed, it muft be confeiJ^d^
jthe <FPecfan model has greatly the advant^e ;
its chotus, during an interval, not only pee-
fcjrves alive the imprefljon niade upon the
audience, but alfo prepares their hearts for
fqcceffive impceflions; in our theatres, Qft
the contrary, the audience, at the en4. q£
fvery aft, carried away by a jig of Vivaldi's, or

H a con-

a TOAcerto of Oii^r<Uni:s^r k>fe ts^ery, warm im-
prcflien relative to ^e^piece^ ami .begin again-
cqpL aad unconc^m^dj as at the commence-
ment of ..the rcprefcntation. This we have*
long thought a grofs, defed:, but luckily not-
incurable; to reTtve the Grecian chprus^^
\^ould be to revive the Grecian ilavery of .
place and time ,• but may we not figure a de- .
tached chorus, coinciding with a paufe in the
reprefentation, as the antiept chorus did with ^
a paufe iii the. principal adtion ? What objec-^
tion> for example, can there lie againft muiic.
between the adls, vocal » and inftruoiental^,
ndapteaio tbefubjeSi ?. Such detached chorus,,
without putting us under any limitation of^
time and place, would recruit the ipirits,.
and preferve entire the tone, if not the
tide of paffion. The mufic, after ..an zGt^
fhould conimence in the tone of the preced-
ing paffion, and be gradually varied till it, ac-
cord with the tone of the paffion that is to.
fucceed in the next aft ; the mufic and the re-,
pr^fcntation would both of them be gainers
by this conjundtion, which will thus appear i
mufic that accords with the prefept tone of
txiind is, upon that account doubly agree-
atte/ and accordingly, though mufic fingly
may not have power to raife fo ftrong a paf-
fion as tragic fcntiments, yet it tends greatly
to fupport a paflion already raifed; further,

i • • • _'

It

- » •♦

t 99 1

it prepares its for th^ paflion that fol^
lows, by infpiring chearful, tendefi melan-
choly^ or animated impreffions as thejTubje^
requires ; take for example^ the opening of
the Mourning Bride , how fympathetically are
\sre prepared for Almefia's diftrefies by thc.fgft
mulic, which precedes and accompanies the
drawing up of the curtain ?

Thus muflc and reprefentation fupport each
other powerfully, the impreffiort made updii
the audience by the reprefeiltation, is a fin«
preparation for the mufic that fucceeds ; and
the imprcffion made by the mufic, is equally
fo for the reprefentation which follows j it
appears to uSj therefore^ fully evident, thai
by fome fuch contrivance, the modern drama
may be improved^ fo as to enjoy the advan-
tages of the ancient chorus, without its
rigid (we had almoft -kidijlavijhj limitation
of ttme^ and place, and mufical compofcrs
for the ftage, would be reduced to the
happy neceffity of ftudying, and imitat-
ing nature, inftcad of deviating, according
to the prefent mode^ into wild and ungovern-
able conceits.

But to return more clofely to the fubjed*
The numberlefs improprieties forced upon the
Greek dramatic poets by the conftitution 6f
their drama, are, of themfelves, we fbould
think, a fufficient reafon for preferring tbut

Ha. Qi

C 100 ]

ef the moderns, even abftrafted from the im-*
prdvcment propofed ; to prepare the reader
for this article, it muft be premifed, that as
in the antient drama, the place of adtion never
varies, a/ place neceflary muft be chofen, to
vsrhich every perfon may have acccfs without
any improbability ; this confines the fcene to
&me open place, generally the court, or area
before a palace, which excludes from the
Grecian theatre tranfadions within doors,
though thefc commonly arethemoft impor-
tant.

S^ch a cruel reftraint is, of itfelf, fufficient
to cramp the moft pregnant invention, and ac-
cordingly the Grecian writers, in order to
preferve unity of place, are reduced to the
greateft improprieties ; in the Hippolytus of
Euripides^, Phasdra, diftreifed in mind and
body, is carried without any pretext from her
palace, to the place of adion ; (he is there
laid upon a couch, unable to fupport her-
felf, and made to utter many things im*^
proper to be beard by a number of women
who form the chorus ; what is ftill worfc,
her female attendant ufes the ftrongeft
intreaties to make her reveal the fecret caufe
of her anguifli} which at laft Phaedra^ con-
^ trary to decency aod probability, is prevailed
upon to do in prefence of that very chorus -j-.
: » Alcejies^

* AA ill. Scene 6th. f AA 2d> Scene ad.

1
J

[ 101 ]

Akeftes^ in Eurip^des^ at the point of deatht
is brought from the palace to the place of ac-
tion, groaning and lamenting her untimely
fate *. In the Trachiniens of Sophocles -f-, a
iccret is imparted to Dejanira, thiP wife gf
Hercules, in prefence of the chorus. In the
tragedy of Ipb^eniaf. the meflenger employed
to inform C]ytemneftra^ that Iphigeiiia was
facrificed, flops ihort at the place of 9<Aio£i,
and with a loud voice, calls the queen from her
palace to hear the news. Again, in tht tpbi-^
geaia in Xanrisy the neceflary prefcnce of the
chorus forces Euripides into a groisabfurdity,
which is to form a fecret in their hearing i and
to diiguife the abfurdity, much courlfliip is
beftowed on the chorus, not one woman, but
a number, tp engage them to fecrecy. In the
Medea of Euripides likewife, that princeis
iimkes no difficulty, in prefcnce of the chorus^
to plot the death of her hufband* hjs mif-
trefs, and her own father, the king of Corinth,
all by poifon i it was neceifary to bring Me-
dea upon the flage, and there is but one place
of aftion, which is always occupied by the
chorus I this fcene clofes the fecond aft j and,
m the end of the third, ihe frankly ma^es the
chorus her confidants, in plotting; the mur-
der of her own children* Terence. too» by
ideatity of place, is often forced to make a

H q ^ con-^

f^ Aa 2d, Scene ift. * t Aft 2i

-conVerfatlon witliih doors loud enough for the
'open' ilreet J infomuch' that the cries of a
woniaii in labour, are heard there "diftinftly.

The Grecian poets are not more happy in
refp6£t to time, than to pi ace: In theHippolytus
6f Euripides, that prince is baniflied at the
end of the fourth a6l ; arid in the firft fcene of
the following a6t, a meflenger relates to The-
ieus" the whole particulars of the death of
Hippblytus by the fea mbnfter ; that remark-
^ble event muft have employed many hours;
and yet, in the reprefent^tion, it is confined
to the time employed by the chorus, upon the
fong ?it the end of the 4th ad; this iricori-
iiftency is ftill greater in the Iphigenia inYau--
rw, in the 5th adj fcene 4th, as 'the fong
ppuld riot exhauft half an hour, and yet the
incidents; fuppofed to have happened during

^^hat time,, could not naturally be tranfaded in
Jcfs than half a day.

The aqticnts are forced, not lefs frequently
to tranfgrefs another rule, derived alfo from a

, continued reprefentatipn, which is, that as a
vacuum, however momentary, interrupts the

. reprefefitation j it is neceflary the place of ac-
tion b? conftantly occupied. Sophocles, in

. fefped to this ryle, as well as to others, is gt^
rxerally porred; but Euripides cannot bear
jfu^h reftraint ; he often evacuates the ftage,
and leaves it empty for others in fucceflion.

jfpbigenut

i ^"3 )

*J^^f^M m\ TauriSp afttr |>r0noimci»g u {Q]if
l0quy in the, foft fcene, leaves the place of
z^gnn ?nd isr C^cctcdcd by Oreftes anxl Py-
Jades I they^ aftc?r fome convey fation, walk o^
.aadlpbigqiia re-enters, accompanied with the
-chorus I in tj^jikefiesy which is of the J&mc
author^ the- place of aiftion is IjUcewKe vQi4>
.at the.ead of the. third a£t. It is true^ to cover
. the irregularity, and to preferve the reprefeur
t^tion in motion, Euripides is extremely care-
fuj tpt fill the ftag^e without lofs of time ; but
- this is ilill an interruption, and a link of the
chain broken J for, during the change of the
adors, there muft be a ipace of time, . jAviting
which, the ftage is occupied by neither fct 5 it
makes, indeed, a more r^emarkable interrupi-
'.t^on, to chanjge the place of a^ipn, as well
as the adors, but this was not practicable
upon the Grecian ftage. . ,
r It is hard to fay, upoi? what model Terenqe
Jias formed his plays, .Having no chorus,
. there is a ceflation of the reprefentatipn at the
c»d of every a<ft, but, advantage is not taken
of the ceflation, even to vary the place of ac-
tion ^ for the ftircet is aljvays chofen, ^yhcre
.every thing paffing may be feen by. every j>ef-
fon, , and . by. that choice, , the , moft fpright^
andintcrcfting partaof the aftion, which^og^
moplypafs w^ithin door«^ are exdud^d^ z^\n
the.laft aft of the Eunuch^. ^^c he has^fRh-

H 4 ^ mitted^^

time } in a woW* a|>1«y wM^^ a regtik^ ch&*
ttts» K nbt tabtc^n^iitd in placb and -tiMe
«fttan *?$ plays art, Ttios -t tsetHmt k^ij
^llbt^simpJidtly iniUcht ^rttis and ccuefnor*
"Jiies, ^thfetrt loifce towfidatng wHethtft tJteit
tntirbdirAory-ckilfe be ftfll fulfflfting. Plauttts,
i(b fatiif ia botaef gcttius than Terenfce, tnakcs
"gW3dtifcdFthfcIibbrtyd^4cd by an ifttferw
itrefel reprtfefttatibh J he varies the place o(
Vwoh'tipt)n alt ttecafibns, iwhen tbs relatron
ifijits his pHTpdfe.

Ifi 'this fttarl atialyiSs b£ the antient drama,
^fe it tiA^et^dWd; twe pfead for no change of
^iiiicih t)ur pfcys, twit after ta^ intferval j nor
jferkfiy Utitude, iw point of time, bofwhai
'j^Jl$- jri with an interv^al. l*hfe unities ©f
pta<5c and tfmt6 ou^t to be ftridly bbferved
wriVg: w^i6 /jf^ ; for,* during the reprefenta-
tibn, there is ho pp|)Orttinky for the fm'alleft
^^cviatjoo froth either > hience it is 2iXi€ffentuil
rHqujli^tc, tha^ during each aB\ the ftage be
always bccu|)h?4^ for cveh a monrjeritary Va-
cuum 'mates an interruption.:

Andf her rule is itfbt lefs feflcntial i it would

» . . . ■

|>e^ grots "breach oi (the unii^y cff a(ftioa, to
•^hib?t upon the /hgd ti^o fepatate aditjns
^t'the 'famfc tiwi^, atid'^erctfore, topreferve
i^at h'nity, iitsnet^ary, tibat cacSi perfonage
ItTctd, jitfrhil 'aft aSft, Ijc Hnkcd to di^e
I • in

In pofleffion of the ftage, fo as to join all m
one adion; thefe things follow, froni the
very conception of an z^ w)ii<h admits not
the flighteil interruption; the moment the
teprefentation is mtermitted, there is an end
of that a£t, and we have no other notion of a
new a6t, but where, after a paufe, w interval^
the representation is again put in motioii^
French writerSj^ gjenerally ijpealjing, are cor-
red in this particular. Eng^H) writers do
not pa^, by any m^ans, To clofe an attention.
^A<3^cJrs not onjy.facceed each other in the
iamejflace without connexion ^ but what 3s
flill worfe,^ they if eq^uently fuccettl each-other

' in diffcreot nlaces, . Thfs change 6f place hx
the fame adb, pught nearer to be indulged 5
ffix beijcie ^reaj^ing the unity, It has a di^
^gre^able elfe^ iii marring the illufion, which
i^ principally held up by contiouity of place.

e«A K

- J

J

[ .106 q

C H A P. XII.

■\

C/Jomc Unf^ripr Ruks proper to ie oi/erved
.. •;- :;o i«:TrageJy. , ■■ ■ ,

HAVING gone through ill the ve^
cflehti'al- j»rts of tragedy, we come
now to fpeak. of ibme. other riics, which
though not io'.fuodamen tally conducive 'to
its formation,' yet highly hceeflary to give ^
'pqli£h to .thole parts, as well, as to prodiicfe
.^tiiat Jagf effeSlt which fhould ; fo inuch. ens-
gage every dramatic poetV attention. -^ i L*
We have already obfcrvcd in trcatmfeaf
^the fable, of tragedy, that.it catinbt bq eif*
tended to more than fivt a^s, if we "^oxM
'concur with either ajflierit, of moderh cuf-
toms; the fcches, we have likewife feld,
fhould ht^gle during each a£l, but the ex-
aft quantity of poetical lines is undetermined,
and indeed very juftly, as fuch a reftraint
would be fettering genius too rigidly ; how-
ever, by judging from thofe which compofe
our bell pieces, they are generally found to
run from three to four hundred.

f .

Anolher; rule which we have from Horace.
" ' ' Nee quart a loqui perfona k^et

fliould

[- W7 1
ihould be.almoft univerfally attended to, asr
^it requires but coihinoa . obfeih^tion to find
out tliat /ii2/r people,. :or mor^, ipeaking oa
the ftage in ene group, (whether from th«
difficulty of a poet's fupportiog fa many dif-
ferent charaderd in dialogue, or from, an in«
attention in the fpefiator which this extent
of converfation produces)— give. not iomuch
fatisfadtion, as when the dialogue is* confined
to twoy or three, i we then comt to be clo&r
judges of their cbara&ers,' are more inte*
refted and. more readily find out the merits
or demerit of the poet i th^s rwle, howeyer
jufl: in general, ihould not ^be atteQckd to £>
ftriaiy ^H never to depart frotii it. The «^-
tafirophe is very often a fituation which ad^
mits of this infringement ; as it m^c^ be nc*
cefTary to have many things thea.^xpliatned
by the perfons themielves, which could not
be done fo well by another; h.ow<evex, even
in this cafe, we Would recommend tfais.U^
cence to be ufed fparingly, and only where
the plot is better eludda^ted with it than
without it.

In expreffing whatever pafBon we would
chufe to reprefent, their eiFedls ihould always
appear in the concernment of an audience ;
but this can never be done wb^r« fpeeches
are turned into declamations^ which tire us
with their length, and inftead of periiiading

ua

us to gnibti^ .for. ^tr imagiomy hfiroes; n^
thcr leproiisnt.likffni: iisi the light td tedion^
Ddfitarasy. w|io vm arcr^in p^m for tHii tfaey am

:gclne<.. ■'*■-'•'')''/:"

l¥heni ld»& flf eoqb ftage came to be rc^
Jormcdils^ GardioaiJlkhlieu^ thofelong bar-
f angoe^ (V^eoeifitrodhacMj, to t:0nipl^ tiie

gravity *^ of ra^ 4zhwck**iiia]a^ aod from iboncc

ib(cdb^if a phjv in a£bits pai:ts, would givetis
a larne pi^inirc of hsrafiai maturc^t ibort fpeedifisi
and ffipliCFSy a»s tniOire apt to moro the paflions
^an the od^ier ; k i^ tinnatiiral for any one,,
Mi a goft <;rf* pafiiori, to ^ak long together^
^&m another in tho fa^aie a>nditiony t^&tfGsr
likxi^^MithcHit kuepriiption; gf ief and paiBoa„
-are iilce ^doods rai&d in little Ibrooks hj a
'^ddeti p2Lm ; they are (|tiickl}t n^'^ ^nd if tbe
-con€emti>ent be pm^ced wyzkpG&ci^ in up-*
on us> it ^Dvecflow)^ u8jl but a long fober
ikowtv ^g^6 themk leliure to fun out as they
'Catne in, ^imhoat troi^ling» xsi: fweilmg
«fee oidinaty cWrtettft* ^

But tho' all paffions mzj be lively npre-
dented 6h 'the l^age, if to ^ wcjl writing
of tlieiin tlie ador Supplies a good com-
fiundff^g l^ice, and limbs gracefully <ii(|>ofed$
yet therfe «re ita«fchy things whid^ caaa never
• he imitMed' tea j\x^ height 5 <lyifig for
iftftatiw,! k iptn cNftieh wJbidi ti&ne^but ^a
^ •■ Roman

feoman Gladiator could naturaMy exhibit oft
the ftage, when he did not imitate, hvA
aiku^Hf perform it j therefore, 'ds better to
omit tftc reprefentatioii.

As a poel itk the de&ripliof> of a beatiti^
ful fi6werwgandien> witt often pkafe our ima^
ginatMn- mort tks» even the ptace itfelf;
fo lively aod afib<Sfciti|; defer tpti6n3 el* deaths
feconded by all the pathos of d^ing, in^
linuate a greater opiraoiaL of reality into our
imaginations, than if the aiSsor wa$ rea% td
die before u«. When we fee death thus re*-
prefented, wc are convinced it is but lidHon ;
but when we hear it well related, our eyes
(the ftrongeft witneflcs) are wantii^, which
might have undeceived us ; and we are will-
ing to favour the fleight, when the poet does
not too grofsly impofe upon us. They
therefore, who imagine thefe rehtions wouM
make no concernment in the audience, arc
deceived, by confounding them with others
which are antecedent to the play ; the latter
are often made in cold blood to the audience,
but the(eare warmed with our own concern-
ments which were before awakened in the
courfe of the play.

What the philofophers fay of motion,
that when it is once bep;un, it continues cf
itfelf, and will do fo to eternity, without
fome flop put to it, is clearly true on this

occafion ;

t "^ ]

bccafion; tlie foul being already moved vr\t\(
the chara<3:ers and fortunes of thofe imagin-
ary; pcrfons, continues goingi of its own ac-r
cord, and we arc no more weary to hear
what becomes of them, when they arc not
on the ftage, than we are to liften to th^
news of an abfent miftrefs. But ;it,may be
pbje<Sled> that if one part of the play ma^
be related, why not all I we anfwer, fome
parts of the a£bion are more fit to be repre*
fented, fomc.to be relatqd. CornetUe fays
judicioufly, that the poet is not obliged to
expofe to view all particular actions which
conduce to the principal ; he ought to feleS:
fuch of them to be feen, which will ajppear
with the greateft beauty, iither by the mag-
Ijificence of the fliow, the vehemence of
paffibns which they produce, or fome other
charm, and let the red arrive to the audi-
ence by narration.

.But how does our ftage in general obferve
this decorum ? Thofe aftions which (hould
be fuppofed to be done behind the fcenes,
are all dragged forward to the notice of the
audience, and in oppofitio;i to that maxim
of Horace,

^yJSfec pueros coram fopulo Medea trucidet."

Duels, battles, and murders, transform ouir
theatres to the ftagcs of prize-fighters, arid

Gladiators ;

iGladiaCor$;*th^ mode of condu^ng thtfixt^'

is alio as ridicttlous as the intent ; for wh^t

can be more abfurd than to rtprefent zn^vmy^

of twenty^ or thirty thoufand men, by a few.

awjcward fccne-ftiifters, dreffed . up in red.

coat^i ptt(hcd:on by as many, more; or a.

duel fought, and one of the parties ilain with^

two, . or three thrufts of a foil, which we.

know is fo' blunted as to require an hour to

kill in good eameft with ? Indeed the

teftimony the audience ever bear to fuch

fights, notwithftanding the force of habit*

prove them to be unnatural ; as a iatfle, dueh

or death of an btro^ fcldom, or never fail to

diflblve the ftrongeft theatrical illufion, and

wipe away all its fympathetic effedls with %

laugh. •

In fhort, it fhould be ope general rule in a
poet, that all tliofe actions, which by reafon
of their cruelty will caufe averfion in lis, or by
reafon of their impoffibility, incredibility, &c»
ihould be either wholly avoided, or delivered
by narration ; and that he will be juftified
in this pradlice, both by the beft of the an-
tient, and modern writers, we fhall fhut up.
this chapter with fome examples/ In the
£unuph of Terence, JPythias, makes a re-
lation of what had happened within at the

fpldier's entertainment ; the relation like-*
wife of Sejanus's death, and the prodigiQ$

before

of which was hid ffom fight to^ avoid thd
horror and tomttk of the repfe&nifaiioii t iSi^
other to Atiii the introdtiAion of thingi
Impoffible to he beKeved. Ben Jonfon
fellows Tcrenc* in his Magnetic La3^^ wherct
he makes one come out from diqner^ to re^
late the quarrels, and difordcrs of it^ td
Ikve the indecent figui^e fiich a view would
have on the ftage, as well as to abbreviate
the ftory. Fletchej^ in his excellent playi
«* The King, and no King," goes yet far-
mer, for the whote unravelling of the plot
is done by narration in the fifth (i(ft> afte^
the manner of the anticnts,, and it has ^
very proper eiled upon the audience, tho*
it be only a relation of what was done niany
years before the play. Aaron Hill in his
Mcrope, adds another inllance to thefc^
where the Revolution, which fets, the lawful
heir on the throne by the murder of the tyrant
at the ahar> is all efFedted h^ narration, and
in fuch a manner, as gives a ftronger im-*
preffion thatt the reprcfen ration of it polflbly
could* We could multiply thefe inftanceS
out of number, but thefe, we hope,- ^re fuf-*
ficient to prove, that there is jio. error iri
chufing a fubjedt which requires this fort
of narrations i in the ill management of it^

doubtlefi, there may.

CHAP.

[ m 1

CHAP. XIII.

0/ Tragic SubjeSis affeSHng us more than tbofi

<lf Comedy*

m

WHOSOEVER rcflcfts that tragedy
has a much ftronger power of affe(5lf
ing a great part of mankind than comedy,
^vill eafily conclude from hence> that their
imitations are no further interefting than itx
proportion to the greater, or lefler impreflion,
which the objeiH: imitated would have niadb
upon us. Now, it is certain, that men in
general^ are not fo much moved with thea-
trical aftion during the reprcfentation of a
comedy as that of a tragedy ; thofe whofc
iludies, or amufements, lead them to the dra-*
matic walk, talk more frequently, and with
more warmth of the tragedies than of the
comedies they have ktn reprefented; arid
confcquently have the former more in quota-
tion than the latter ; in {hort, we are readier
tocxcufe a mediocrity in the tragic than the
comic ftile, though the latter feems not to

have the fame command over our attention as
thefirft.

' Habet comosdia tanto

Tins oner is ^ quanta venia minus. Hor.

I Thofe

t ."4 ]

Thofc whofe labours arfe dcfigned for the
ftage, talk in the fame ftrain, and moftly
agree^ that there is not £b nvud\ danger in
giving the public "an entertainment to
weep at, as to divert tkcm with iaugh

ing.

One would imagine, neverthelefs, that co-
medy ou^t to draw mens attentions more
than tragedy. A convic poet does not exhibit
to the fpe£tators heroic chara<fiterS| or fuch m
jthey have no knowledge of, b«it from fome
vague ideas forn^d from the relation of hif-
torians ; he does not entertain the pit with
conspiracies igainft the jftate^ with draclos
and oth^ marvellous events, and fuch as the
greateft part of the fpe<ftators, who have ne-
ver had any ihare in the like adventures^
would not be able to tell, whether the cir-
cutefl&nces and coniequences thereof are
let forth with any reifemblance of truth.
On the contrary, the entertains us with
the piifture of our friends, and of &o& with
whom we*hav4C a conftant intcrcourfeand fa-
miliarity. The theatre^ according to Plato,
&bfi{k, as it were, entirely by the errors
and foibles which are daily incident to men,
by reafon of their not being fufficiently ac-
quainted with themfelves ; fome imaginiiag
themfelves more powerful than they really

are i

fife i ipme eaor€ towjni^f w4 Qt^ Wj m ^f^

Tte tragic poet »??pQfe§ th^ in^opveiyi^ncf^
arifiog from the wwt pf felf-kaQwlecJgp jjji
fbvereigns^ and Qth^r in^fpcnd^pt perfof^s^
the eonfequencet 9f whof^ vif)di<|^ve m^pqff
make generally a great HQlfe i whft/s i^^f^tf
ments are naturally viotent^ 9Rd wh^i^ p^?^^
fioiis, proper for the ftage> are capable of hSf
ing the fprings of (he greateft events. The oo^
mic poet exhibits the confequeaces of 616*
Ignorance among the general ranks of pecy)le^
whoie refentments are fubordinate to thelavr^^
and whofe pzGions, proper for the fcenes, are
produ(9:ive only of domeftic broils and Qcdi«
nary adventures.

The comic poet entertains us, thete&re,
with the adventures of our equals, and pre-*
ients us with the portraits of originais that
are conilantly before us | he makes even the
pit (allowing the expreiiion) nxouot |ipon the
ftage. Man, therefore, who is naturally food
of any difcovery he can make of hjis n^eigh-
bour's foibles, and deiirous of all knowledge
that can entitle him to le£en his eileem e(
others, ought naturally to refort to Thal^,
rather than Melpomene, eipecially as the ^s^r-
mcr is much more fertile than the latter pf
leflbns for private peoples inftru^ons.

Tho' comedy may not, perhaps, corred all

I 2 the

[ "6 1

the failings it expofes, yet it teaches us at leaft^
how to live with fuch as are fubje£t to thoTe
failings, and how to conform fo in company^
as to avoid that roughncfs which provokes
.them, or that fervility which flatters them.
Tragedy, on the contrary, reprefents heroes;
with whom our fituation forbids us to at-
tempt any refemblance, and whofe lefTons and
examples are drawn from events fo difiimilar
to thofe we are commonly expofed to, that
the applications which we niight be willing
to make, would be extremely vague and im^
perfedfc ; hence, as it is the imitation of the
crimes and misfortunes of great men, fo like-
wife it is the imitation of the fublimeft vir-
tues of which they are capable.
. The tragic poet exhibits men, who are cap-
tives to the moft extravagant paflions, and the

moft tumultuous agitations. He (hews-us a fort
of unjuft, but all-powerful deities, who de^
mandayoung innocent princefs to be facrificed
at the foot of their altars ; he fets before us
-the progrefs of heroes, the deaths of tyrants,
and the revolution of empires ; 'tis true, we ne-
ver find our friend in any of the tragic perfon-
ages ; but their. paflions are more impetuous,
andas-the laws are but a feeble barrier to thefe
paflions, they are attended with much greater
confequences than thofe of comic charaders ;

thu&

r

[ "7 3

thus the terror and pity^ which the pidure
of tragical events excites In our fouls^ en-
gages much more than all the laughter and
contempt excited by the fevcral incidents of
comedy.

^ 3

«* r

13

CHAP.

I "« 3

C HAP. XIV.

Q/*' t* R A O I-Co,M E D Y.

TRAGI-COMEDY is a kind of mixed
dramatic piece^ partly partaking of
tragedy* and partly of comedy^ and is the
only fpecics of the latter^ where kings and
heroes are introduced. The antients knew no-
thing of this compofition ; their taftc was fu-
perior to it ; yet fo much was this ftylc of
writing in fafhfon with us» in the latter end
of the laft century, that fcarce a tragedy
ventured to make its appearance without a
fpice of comedy, or rather farce, to make
the people laugh. The only excufe we can of-
fer for the ufe of this extraordinary dra-
matic entertainment, was the then political
Situation of affairs, which afked for every
thing* no matter how abfurd, to laugh away
the gloom of fanaticiihi* and put down the
ftarcbneis of hypocrify,
' Hiil, tn getting rid t>f thi$ gloom and mo^
rofenefs of manners, it happened, as it often
does in fimilar circumftances, our aoceftors
went too far in the' contrary extreme ; th^
were refolved, at all events* to have the laugh
09 their fide, and therefoi^* would rather en^

courage

C *i9 ] '

coura^ a l^reach of morality, ov goa4 f^nfi;
on this 2^rcountt th^q be without it j bu$
what were the confeqpcnces ? fym^ of thtf
fincft poet« of th9t d»y fell in with this depra-?
vity, and inft?ad of fdlWwiiig the line of their
own gefliijs, which WoijW have led them to
4efp^e this iinnatural farf ago, they adopted it
^ the i^oil profitable, ^s well 99 the qic^
likely to pieet with public (x>H&te«aQce^

Amongft this group^tin^ piffb^tk Qt*m^ fe tmr
kappify didingui^ed I that ekgant p^ioteir of
^e hiioian paffions^ has kft behind hin) a tra^
giHComiE^y * on this plan, which is more a fiu*
tire on thi9 age he lived in, than on his ov^a
talei^ts, as every body mpi^ at once fee, tha^
th^ comic part either could not be the pro*
du£tio0 of the fame pen, which anuimted fo
powerfully the tragic foenes, or, thstf if it
was, it muft have been wrung from him, in
the hour of neceility, to j^eafe the great, and
little vulgar of the day.

But to fpeak more critically on this fub-
jea. One of the great requifites both of tra-
gedy and comedy, is unity of adion ^ now,
in a tragi -comedy, there are two diftinfi: ac^-
tions carrying on together, to the perplexity
of the audience, who, before they are well
engaged in the concernments of one part, are

diverted

• Venice PrereivM.

/

[ I2» ]

>

diverted ta another, and by thofe means,
dpo^fe the intcrcft of neither : from hence
likewife arifcs another inconvenience equally
as abfurd, which is, that one half of the cba-
radiers of the play are not known to each
other; they keep their diftahces like th*
Mountagues and CapuktSj and feldom begin
an acquaintance till the laft fccne of the fifth
ad, when they all meet upon the ftage to
wind up their own ftories.

In /hort, the vary bafifi of this Ipecies of the
drama, is cgregioufly unnatural ; for, as Arif^
"totle has juftly laid down compajpoh to be one
of the great fprings of tragedy^ how incom-
patible IS mirth y or, more commonly low htf^
$noury with fo refined and exalted a fcnfation ?
and, is it not evident, that the poet mufl:
deftroy the former, by mixing it with the
latter ? He that would attempt to make us
Haugb and rry, in common converfation, we
£hould juftly hold a ridicukus chara<^er, for
endeavouring at contrary emotions, which
the heart can nicvcr feel at the fame time,
fcvery thing that difpo&s it for the one, indif-
pofing it for the other.

We are happy, however, in treating of"
thia fubje£i:, that we arc now but fpeaking of
its manes \ tragi-comedy having left this
CQUjitry (where, we are afraid, it was origi-

ginally

f 121 1

ginally hatched) above half a century ago 5
for declining, as the prefent ftatc of theftagc
is; our tafte has, as j^^, purity enough to rejedl
this fedu<^ion with univerfal contempt ; and
we hope, for the credit of pofterity, nofuc-
ceeding age will relapfe into a fpecies of the
drama, at once fo repugnant to all the J^ws
«f art as well as 4iature^

^

CHAR

I J2« I

C H A P» XV.

Of tBe tfr^n, c^nd Progrefs of Aktij^vj:

f

Tlf^ or?gin of comedy is* as obfcure as
that of tragedy! they had both their
original^ from the feftivals of the Vintage,
sod were not diflinguifhed from one another,,
iHit by a burlefque, or ferious chorus. But

if we give thefe words a ftrifter fenfe, ac-
cording to the notion which has been fince

formed, comedy was produced after tragedy,
and was„ in many refpeifls, a fequel, and
imitation of the works of Efchylus ; it is in
jreaEty nothing more than an adion fet be-
fore the fight, by the fame artifice of repre-
fentation> materially differing in iK>thing but
the objeft, which is riditule.

Ariflotle informs us, that Homer wrote a
comic epic poem, called Margites, which, to
the no fmall detrinKint of fucceeding ages, is
loft i to this poem he fuppofes comedy owes its
birth, as does tragedy from the Iliad of the
feme author. . Thus the defign, and artifice of
comedy were drawn from Homer, and
Efchylus. This will appear lefs furprifingj
fince bur ideas are always gradual, and
arts are feldom invented but by progreTivc

but

[ ,123 3 ^

imitation 4 the firft idea contains the feed
of the fecond, the fecond expanding it-
£elf ^ives birth to a third, and fo on. Such
is the progrefs of the human mind! it
proceeds in its productions, ftep by ftep, ia
the fame^ manner as nature multiplies her
works, by repetitions only of her own acts,
wJben fhe feems Uioft to run into variety.

Who wa& the happy author of that imi-
tation, however, is a queftipn of more
doubt i whether only one like Eifchylus of
tragedy, or whether there were fevcral?
Horace only quotes three writer^ who ha<i
r^utation in the, old comedy j Eupolis,
Cratinus, and Atiftophanesi of ^hotob he
-fays, •' That they, and others, who wrote
in the fame way* reprehended the' faults of
particular perfons with excdfive liberty/'
Thefc are probably the poets of the greateft
reputation, though they were not the firft,
and we know the names of many others.

Amongft thefe three, we may be fure'thit
AnAof^anes had the greateft charafter,^ not
only on account of the number of eubgiums
bcftowed on him, both by his own country-
men and others, but likewife, bccaufc he
is the only writer of whom any comedies
have made their way down to us through
die confufion of times ; there are not in-
deed any proofs that he was the inventor ot

comedy.

[ 124 ]
eonicdy, but there are that he had con-
tributed, more than any other, to bring
Coiiiedyto the perfcftidri in tvhich he left it.
We ihall therefore' not enquire further, whe-
ijier ' reguhr cortiedy was the work of a
fingle mind, which feems yet to be unfet-
tled, or of feveral cotemporaries, fuch as
thefe which Horace quotes ? but di{tingui(h
the three forms which conSedy 'wore in her
prbgrefs^to wards perfe<flion/ " '

That coriiedy which Horace calls the an-
ticnt, and" which iaccording to' his account,
was after Eichylus, retained fomething of
its; oHginal ftate, and' of the licentioufne&
i^hicfti it pradifed, whilft it was yer without
legularity, aild uttered lobfc jokes and abuie
Vpon thb paflef s by from d>e cart of Thei^
pis/ Though it was now properly modelled,
i&^ might have becii worthy of a great
tfieatre^ ^d a numerous audience, and de-^
fervcd the name of ia regular comedy^ it was
not yet much nearer to decency i it was a
reprefentation of real aiSions, arid exhibited
^thc drefs, the motions, and the air (as far
as could be dope in a mafk) of any one who
was thought J)r6pef to be facrificcd to public

fqorn.

• ''•*'■ •• ■ " ■
In a city 10 ' free (or to come nearer the

irixtli ' fo^tcehfidm) zs Athens was at that

time, and in" this particular, no body was

' " fparcdj^

t "5 )
fpated J not even the chief magiftrate*s, -nor
the very judges by whofe voice comedians
were allowed, or prohibited; the infokncp
of thefe performances reached at laft to opea
impiety, and fport was made equally witi^
men and gods* Theile arc the featui'es by
which the greateft part of the compofitionfi
of Ariftophanes will be known, . which^
however remarkable for conveying to us the
wit, and humour of that day, will at the
fame time be chargeable with the abandojied
infamy of facrificing one of the greateft, and
wifeft men * not only of Greece^ but of any
ag?, or nation whatever.

This Hcentioufnefe of the poets was how>-
ever at laft reftrained by a law, which gave
birth to. what is called the miJd/e comedy i
for the government, which was before
fliared by all the inhabitants, being now
confined to a fettled number of citizens, it
was ordered, that no man's name fhould be
mentioned on the ftage : but poetical malig-
nity was not long in finding the fecret of
defeating the purpofe of this law, and of
making itfelf ample compenfation for the
reftraint, by inventing falfc names. The poets
fet themfelves, therefore, to work upon
known and real chara<5ters io that now they

had

* Socrates.

J

[ 126 )

Itad the advantage of giving arndfe eK^uIiife
gratification to their vanity, and the malice
of fpeftators. One had the relined pleafurc
of fetting otl^ers to guefs, and the other that
df gueffing rights by naming the masks*
When piAures are fo like the originals, that
tiie names are not wanted, no body infcribes
them. The confequence ^this kw, therefore,
was nothing more than to make th'at done
with delicacy, which before was done groif*
ly 1 and the art, which was expeifted^ would
be confined within the limits of duty, was
fHU tranfgrefled> but with more ingenuity*

The new comedy^ or that which follow**
ed, was a rcfiitiement* which gave the laft
polifli to this art ; for the magiftrates, who
as they, before, forbade the ufe of real
namesy now forbade real fubjc<5ls^ and the
train of chorufles too much given to abuie ;
fo that' the poets faw themfelves reduced to
the neceffity of bringing imaginary names,
and fubjedts upon the ftage, which at once
purified and enriched the theatre* Hence
comedy from that time, was no longer a fury
armed with torches and firebrands, denounc-
ing perfonalitics, and partial inveftives, but
a pleafing, innocent, and inftrudive mirror
of human life.

To the polifhed genius of Menander, the
Greeks principally were indebted for this

refine-*

t "7 1

have come down to the prefent day, it is to
hitxi^ Plautus and Terence, and £rom them

U8 n>odefns» are indebted for the Aandaxdof

comic wHting ; furcly we are authori&d to

fay €o, on the beft grouikls, u^ien CeaAr

only called Ter ence^ whole joirork« fufiicient-

ly proclaim him an eqiial mafter of tke

elcigantt and humorous, ^^onthalfnfMm^

Ander \' indeed all the poets both of his aism.

country^ ajad of the Ladns, coBi^ire in ^^

ing faim the liigbeft ealogiiunrs; h^x as

Plutarch has drawn the compariibn xxsmc

clo&^y between ihim and AriAioplianes {die

only caaipetitor lie had) we fiiail make no

apology for giving it in this place.

^*^ He objects to Ariflophanes, tSiat ^
i^trries all hi$ ^hou^vts beyond natul^e, that
be writes rather to the crowd, l^an.Vo inen
of charaifter, that he s^ds a ftife obfcare^
and licentious^ tra^cal, pompous, and
mean, fonxetimes ferious, and Ibmetimes
ludicrous, that he makes none of his ptdbi^-
ages ipeak according to any diftincS char-
a^fler, fo that in his fcenes, the fon cannot
fee known from the father, the citizen fron^^
the boor, the hero from the fliop-keepcr,
and the divine from the ferving man^
whereas the diftion of Mcnander^ which is
always uniform and pure, is vcryjuftly adapt-
ed

r »28 "J

ed to different charaftcrs, . rifing when it k
neceflary to vigorous, and fprightly comedy,
yet without tranfgreffing the proper limits,
or lofing fight of nature, in which he has
attained to a perfedkion which no other writer
before him arrived ; fof what man, befides
himfelf, ever found out the art of making
a didtion equally fuitable to women, and
children^ old, and young, divinities, and
heroes, which like a current of clear water
running through banks differently turned,
complies with its courfe without changing
any thing of its nature, or purity ?'*

To omit nothing efTential, which concerns
this part, we fhall extend the view of antient
comedy a little further, by giving a fbort
account of its progrefs amongfl the Romans^

' When the arts pafTed from Greece to Rome,
comedy took its turn amongfl the refl, but
the Romans applied themfelves only to the
new fpecies without chorus, or perfbnal
abufe ; though, perhaps, they might have
played fome tranflations of the old, or middle
comedy j as Pliny gives an account of one
which was reprefented in his time. The Ro-
man comedy, which was modelled upon the
lafl fpecies of the Greek, hath neverthelefs

' its different ages, according as its authors
were rough, orpolifhed; the pieces of Li vius

Andronicus

Androniclis * rriore antient, and lefs r.efined
tliaii thofe of the writers who learned the art
from him, may be faid to compofe the firft
age ; fo him we muft join Nevius his co-
^ tempcfrary, and Ehnius, who lived fom^
years' after him. The fecond age, comprifes
Pacuvius^ Cecilius, and Accius. The third
and higheft age of its perfe<aiion, and which
may properly be called the new comedy,
claims PlaUtus, and Terence, of the lafl of
whom it* is univerfally agreed, he was the
fkithful copier of Menander. , '

But thp Romans without trouhting^ them-
felves With this order of fucceflion, diftin-
guiflied their comedies by the dreifles of the
players. The Robe called Pr^/^;c/^, with
large borders of purple, being the^ formal
drefs of rnagiftrates in their dignity ; thq ac-
tors, \yho had this drefs, gave its name to
the cofnedy : the fecond fpecies, introducecf
tJicfenators not in great offices, but as private
men 5 this was called T^oges from T!ogata :-
tlic laft fpecies, was named T'abernaria from
tlie TtuniCf or common dr^sfs of the people,
or ra:ther from the mean houfes which were
painted oil the fccne. To fay the truth, thefe
are but trifling diftinftipns, as comedy may
be more ufefully, and judicioufly diftinguifh-
ed by the general nature of its fubjeds. As
^'^' K to

^ ♦ The year of Rome 514.

I

f

I 130 ]

to the Romans, whether they had, or had
not reafon for thefe names, they have left us
fo little upon the fubjedl which is come
down to us, that we need not trouble our-
felves with a diftinftion which affords us no
folid fatisfaftion. Plautus, and Terence, arc
the only; authors of whoni we are in poflef-
fion, and as they give us a fuller notion of
the real nature of their comedy, we muft re-
fer for further particulars to their works at
large, concluding this . chapter on antient
comedy, with a fliort character of thefe poets
as drawn by father Rapin.

**^ With refpedl to the two Latin comic,
poets, Plautus is ingenious in his defigns, hap-
py in his conceptions, and fruitful of inven-
tion \ he has, however, according to Horace,
fome low jocularities, and thefe fmartfayings
which made the vulgar laugh, made him be
pitied by men of higher tafle j it is true, fomc
of his jefts are extremely good, but others
likewife are very bad \ to this every man^s ex-
pofed, who is too much determined to make
fallies of merriment, who endeavours to raifc
that laughter by hyperboles, which would
not arife by a juft reprefentation of things.
Plautus is not quite fo regular as Terence in
the fcheme of his defigns, or in the diflribu-
tion of his adts, but he is more fimple in his

plots ; for the fables of Terence are common-
ly

{ i3i )
ly complex, as may be feen in his Andrea,
which contains two amours. It was impute4
as a fault to Terence, that to bring more
action upon the ftage, he made one Latin
comedy put of two Greek, but then Terence
unravels his plot more naturally than Plautus,
which Plautus did more naturally than Ari-
ftophanes ; and though Csefar calls Terence
but *^ one half of Menander,' ' becaufe, though
he had foftnefs, and delicacy, there was in
him fome want of fprightlinefs and ftrength ;
yet he has written in a manlier, lb natural^
and fo judicious, that thpugh he was then
only a copy, he is now an original."

Kz CHAR

[ 132 I

CHAP. XVt

Of the Lrn^s cf Comcby^,

COMEDY, accofding t6 Ariftotle, fo
defined to be *^ an imifiatioA of th^
/Worft men ; when I fay worji (fiiys that
gre&t philofopher) J don't mean in all ibrts of
vices, but only in ridicule^ which i% proper^
\y a deformity without pain, afid* which
iiever contributes 16 the defttniftioh of
the fubje<a in which it is/V This de*
finition of Ariftotle's is corroborated by
Horace, Quintilian, Boileau, Mulgrave, and
the long line of illuftrious authors, who have
ever written on this fubjeft; its manners,
fentimentSy and diStion^ are governed by the
fame laws as thofe of tragedy, that is, the
firft (hould be goody or fuitable to the charac-
ters, and the two laft correfpondent to the,
flrfl. In the choice of fubjedts, and where
thefc fccnes are to be placed, however, there
is a material difference between thofe of tra-
gedy and comedy. In the firft, we have al-
ready pointed out who are in general the pro-
per heroes, as well as that tragic poets fhould
place their fcenes in times remote from thofe
we live in; reafbns of an oppofite nature,
I demand

demand that the fcches of comedy ought to
be fixt in the very places, and times, in which
they are reprefented.

Cqmedy^ has no occafion to raife its fa-
vourite perfonages on pedeftals; fince its
principal end is not to make us admire them^
in order to render them more eafily the ob-
jects of pity ; the moft it aims at, is to give
us a little uneafinefs for them, arifing from
the crofles they meet v^rith (which ought ra--
thcr to be a fort of difappointment than real
misfortune) in order to give us more fatisfac-
tion at feeing them happy at the unravelling
of. the piece ; its defign being to make us
laugh at the expence csf ridiculous perfons,
purging us of thofe faults which it expofes^
that we may become fitter fpribciety. Comedy
therefore, cannot render the ridiculoufnefs of
its perfonages too vifible to the fpedlators,
who, whilft they difcover with eafe, the ri-
dicule of others, will ftill find it difficult
enough to difcern that which is within them-
felves.

Now, we cannot diftinguifh nature fo eafily
when fhe appears in ftrange cufl:oms, man-
ners, and apparel, as when ihe is clad after
our own faftiion j the Spanifh, Italian, and
French decorum, for inftance, being not fo
well known to us as that of England, we are
not fo much fhocked with the ridicule of ^

K 3 pcrfoA

-[ 134 ]

perfon that afts againft thcnj, as we - fhould^
were this perfonage to violate the laws of
decency eftabliflied here.

. We always diftinguifti human nature ia
the heroes of tragedies, whether their fcenes
be at Rome, or at Sparta,^ becaufe tragedy is
univerfally defcriptive of great virtues, and
vices i men of all countries, and ages, re-
fembling one another more in thofe than they
do in ordinary pradices and cuftoms ; ii^
ihort, than in thofe vices, and virtues, whofc
piftures are drawn in comedy : hence the
perfonages of the latter, ought to be ihaped
after the fafliion pf that; country for which
they were written^

It may be pbjeded, that Plautus^ and
Terence, have placed the fcenes of the great-
eft part of their pieces in a Jlrange country ^
with refpe(ft to the Romans, for whom they
had compofed their comedies ; the plot of
their pieces fuppofing the laws, and cuftqms,
of th^ Greeks. But if this teafpn fufBqes for
&n objedion, It is not, however, ftrong
enough^ to cvinge the contrary of what we
have eftabliflied 5 befldes, in anfwer to it,
we may venture to fay, that Plautus, and
Terence, might hav? been miftaken. When
they firft wrote, comedy was then in its in^
faRcy at Rome, whilft the Greeks had ^^

r

t 13s 1

ready furniihed the ftage with mod excellent
pieces ; thefe ingenious Romans then, who
had no patterns in their own language to di-
re<3: them» fell into an imitation of the
comedies of .Menander, and other Greek
poets, and thus afted Greek perfonages be-
fore Roman fpedlatcrs.

This pradlice is too generally the cafe upon
the tranfplantation of any art ; the firft im-
porters of it (if we may be allowed fo fami-
liar an expreflion) too ftrongly conform to
the foreign practice, and are guilty of a mlf-
take, in imitating at home the fame origi-
nals, which that art was accuftomed to
mimic where they firft learned it ; but ex-
perience foon teaches them to change the-ob*
je6t of imitation ; hence it was, not long be-
fore the Roman poets found out that their
comedies woul4 be much more agreeable,
were the fcene« to be transferred to Rome,
and the charadlers pf that very people to be
afted^ who were to judge of their perform-
ances. This was done accordingly, and the
<:omedy compofed after the Roman manners,
was divided into ieveral fpecies,

Horace, therefore, applauds fuch of his
countrymen as firft introduced Roman per-
fonages into their comedies, and thus deliver-
ed the ftage from a kind of tyranny exercifed

©ver it by. foreign perfonages i

K 4 NiJ

C 136 ]

: MikttnMum.Miftri ItquetJit poetry . •
, .l^€C,mmtnum immerg dectts,veJi^ia:Qitaca
. \,^ii^ defer ere, etc^^rdredomeJiicafaStaf -

r'^el,quiprate:^t4Sy . v^i' qui dacuere togotaf.

> • . • ■

.;^jh. Hor. dcart. poet.

»

There are other general rulcSj-dr comedy,
^yhich as they af^ very judicioufly laid down
irt jRspin's 25th . r^flecaion on poetry, we
think we can do nothing better on this oc-.
cafion than tranfpribe thenj :
. ^f Coniedy, (fays he) i§ a reprcfentation of
common life ; its end is to fjiew the faults of
particular charadrers bn the ftage, to correft
the diforder of the people by the fear of ri-
dicule : thus ridicule is its cflential part, apd
may cpnfift iii words, or things, decent, or.
grotefque. To find what is ridiculous in every
thing is the gift merely of nature, for all'thc
a^dions of life haye their bright, and dark
lide$, fpmethjng feriou?, and fomething^
merry. Ariftotle, \yho has given rules for
drawing tears, has given none for raifing
laughter ; this is principally the work of na-
ture, and muft proceed frpm genius, with ve|y
little help frpm art, pr matter. The Spaniards
Ji^^re a turn to find the ridicule in things^
p>iich more than the French, and the Italians,
rt^liQ arc much better comedians, excel in

pxprcfiing

I «5^ I

iwcpreffing it J i^ ffioft^ that agreeaWe turn,
jhat gaiety wHiph niiititaihs fliip delicacy of
its chara^cr without 'faSling into duUnefs, or
J>ufiboncry; that elegant Vaillerywl)ich is the
jSower of fine wit, is ithe giialifica^orj which
pomedy requires. »

^« We muft, however, rememher, tliat the
grtificia} ri4ici>le, >yhich is required on the
fheatre, muft be only a tranfcript of the ri-
4icale which nature affords. Comedy is only
patprally written, when being on the theatre,
a man can fancy Jii^^j^lf ^^ a private family,
pr a particular part of the tbwq, and meets
with nothing, . but ;^haf he really meets with^
jn the world; for it; is a mocking of this art,
in which a man does not fee his own pifl:ure,
his own manners,* ^nd thofe of the people
amongft whom he lives : Menander fucceed-
pd only by this art amongft the Greeks, and
the Romans v^hen they -fat at Terence's come-
dies, imagined themfelves in ^ private party,
finding nothj'ng there, which th^ had not
been apcufton>ed \o find in their ufual con-
ye^'fatibns.

f* The greaf art pf 'cromedy is to adhere to
nature ; to have geperal fentiments, and ex-
preffions, which all the world c^n under-
ftandj the author always keeping it in his
g^ind, that the coarfeft touches after nature,

will

r ^33 1

will pleafe more than ^e .mqft nd^liicaiey
where j(he is inconfiftpnt,: Io)v, and m^m
words, notwithftanding, jDbould never be al-
lowed on the, ftage, if they are not fuppprted
by fome kind of wit ; j)f ovcrhs, and vulgar
fmartneiles, fhould be like wife precluded^
unlefs they have fonijething in them of na-
ture, and pleai!antry»

** It is by an application to -the ftudy of
nature alone that we arrive at probability,
which is the only infallible guide to theatrical
fucccls ; without this probability every thing
is defedive, and that which has it is beauti-
ful; he that jEbllows this can never do wrong,
and the moft common faulty of comedy pro-
ceed.from the negleft of propriety, and the
precipitation of incidents. Care muft like-
wife be taken, that the hints made ufe of to
introduce the incidents are not too ftrong,
that the fpedator may enjoy the pleafure of
finding out their meaning; but commonly
tlie weak place in comedy is, the untying of
the plot, on account of the difficulty which
there iis in difeiitahgling what has been per-
plexed. To perplex an intrigue is eafy ^ j|ie
imagination does it by itfelf, but it muft
be difentangled merely by the judgement,
and is therefore feldom done happily^
which he that reflects riever fo little on the

general

i J3^ 3

c

genera! cata^rophe of copicdies will readil/
perceive." ; :;^^^ ,

It remains however, to be examiflfed, whe-
ther comedy will »lJow pi^res larger than
lh« life, that th? ftrength of the ftrokcs may
make a deeper icnprpflion upon -the minds of

the fpedators ; that is, if a poet may make a
covetous man rather more covetous, or a

peevifh man more impertinent, and trouble-
fomc than he really is. To which we anfwcr ;
this was the practice of Plautus, whofe aim
was to pleafe the people at large ; Terence
however, thought otherwife, and confined
himfelf to reprefent virtue, and vice, with-
out the Icaft addition, or aggravation* The
critics are fomewhat divided in this choice ;
however, if we may venture to give an opi-
nion on fo balanced a fubjed, we muft de-
clare for Plautus, confidering comedy in this
refpedt, like pieces of perfpe<3:ive which re-
quire ftrokes fomewhat ftronger than nature,
that they may be the better difcerned as weH
as felt, at a diftance.

After all we have faid of the rules of
tr^cdy and comedy, it may not be im-
proper to add one general remark, which is
this; that tho' we think all perfons who
turn their abilities towards writing for the
. ftage, fhould be previoufly acquainted with
rules ; they never can, fimply of themfelvcs,
coijftitute a good tragic, or comic writer.

In

In all liberal profeffionsr much fdndamed^
tal, and analytical knowledge is neceflary^
but, without genius in the exercife of'th|s
knowledge, the mere profefTor may l>b as
exa&, and regular, as a time-piece,'' but
.eq[ualiy d^U ^i^d Aininftru£tivc#

• ' J *

» »

1

r •

< • » »

»• I

f . /•»

A 'f r «/

4 >

. i • » •

» •• . * • I * J

CHAP.

[ >l* 1

.' ^ *

... Of Sentimental CoMEDV*

. ' f

■* r ■

THO' the laws of the drama know no
fpecies ef comedy under this title^
yet as the prevalence of caftom has not only
pfjate admitted it, but given it a &V& rate
place on our theatres, it very properly be-
comes an objedt of enquiry in this work.

Were we to reafon by analogy, we Should
never be able to find out the cau& of fo unr
claflidar a iuperfcflion, for whoever will make
the cJbiftparifon between that coniedy left us
by atatiquity, and fa ably continued to us by
feverar of our EhgUih, poets \Vith this, will
find the features too diffimilar to claim the
moft diftant reference ; in the former, wc
have a fable founded on the laws of probabi-
lity, . and rtature 5 chara<9:ers fpeaking the
language of their conformation, and the
whole (lage refleftin'g the manners of the
world-; in the latter, names inftead of cha-
ra<3:ef s» poetical egptifms for manners, bom-
baft for ientiment, and inftead of vvit and
humour,, (the very eflence of comedy) a dri-
veling, fpecies of morality, which as a term
generally ^applied Jo' ethics, may properly

enough

[ »42 ]

enoagh be called gtiad^ but from beihg falfely
applied to coinedy (however it may excite
the piety of the crowd) mufl: naufeate men of
fenie, and education.

There is a circumftance which we think
has been a leading ailiftant in the eflabliih*
ment of this falfe tafte. Without meaning to
turn reformers^ and inconfiderately fall in
with the vulgar opinion of generally condemn-
ing the prefent age, merely becaufe it is the
prefent age ; thus much we think we are
warranted to aflert; that the prefent age,
however it may be free from great, and lead-
ing vices, is peculiarly marked by z. JUvoiJh
effeminacy of manners y and univerfality of in--
dolent diffipation^ unknown to former ages ;
hence the people of fafhion, unwilling tp fee
fuch juft emblems of themfelves on the ftage
as comtdyjhould reprefent, thought it better
to aflume a virtue which they had not, by
crying up the theory of morality as a kind
of cover for the breach of it. The lower
kinds of people having no other models in
their eye, than thofe whom they often mif-
takenly call their betters^ without weighing
this opinion, followed their example; fo
that between the two parties nature began to
be called vulgar, and every thing partaking
of the low, humorous, or vicious, (princi-
pal ingredients in comedy) began to be un-
der-

C 143 ]

fleF-ratedy bccaufe the former had an intcrfeft"
in decrying them, and the lafter permitted
ihemfelves to be duped by the artffice.

It is the voice of the public forms the
public tafte. Comedy, which is ab6ve all
walks of writing, perhaps the mod difficult,'
and unattainable, and which accordipg* to
one of the moil diflinguifhed characters of
the laft age, " —is thtjirjt pretence"

To juiigement, breedings wit, and ehquehc&.-
Being thus vitiated ; there were not wanting
poets, who, departing from the honourable

line of their profeffion, (or to ipeak more
correifHy, unacquainted with the. principles
of their profeffion) prefcribed to this innova-^
tion. . Sir Richard Steel's Confcious Lovtrs^
we believe, was the firft in this line of writ-
ing I not that we would clafs this, in other
reipeds, elegant and judicious writer with
the general run of poets who have fince fuc-
ceeded him in this line ; we only mean to fay,
that the pathetic fcenesof this comedy, made
the firft departure, of any confcquencc, from
that fterling kind of writing left us by anti-*
quity; and confequently, the general repu-.
tation of Sir Richard Steeh who was at that
time much above par as a moral writer, dtft
gave it the ftamp of faihion.

Comedy being thus debauched, like an
unhappy female, began to be viewed in the

light

Ifgtt^ Off tdkffi'M game, by thofc p6eK tvff^
dare not Ibok tip fo h^ iiy thd Sip of fidf
chaftity ; fuch fiiidin^ tfib interciotrrfe eafy y'
smci the j^rolits greats immediafely hiifed
Aemfelvts in her fervicS* Tlie fuccef^ of ond
fool drew maiiyi they iiadl nothmg to^ d6 hot
C3ft:hange the vis corriich fbt ^hc patfifWifc/ iitf
fubMtute tam^ individual recital fof naf untF
dialogue ^ in (hort, a hb\^el furnaBec/ tAeih'
with th6 plot; a fervik atlufion to alf the
Kttlfc chat of the time%, for wit, and' htt^
Itiouf; and the Whblti Duty of Mi'n,^ P^-
mela^ or the Oeconomy of Miiniah Life, for
feritimehts. Thu^ an art *bf?ginally rhvehtetf
to lafti the follies, and imperfedibns of man-
kind, through the vehicle of ridicule i aa
>rt' which ftiould ever be confidefed- as the'
grekteft teft of wit. Breeding, and obfefva-
toon; an art, " whofe end both af the firit,*
and now was, and is, to hold as 'twere the*
inirror up to nature, to fliew virtue her own
futures, fcorn her own image, ahd the Very
age and body of the time his form and pref-
fure," is changcid into what is vulgarly caflecf
a moral kind of ehtertainnient, where a ci*'
tizcn, 'tis true, may bring his wife, and daugh-
ter to, with as much/qfety as to a Methodlflr
chapel, but wjth equal profped of improve-
ment.

But

C HI 1

Bwt afl wc mean to treat this fubjodl: others
Wife tbftn either inveftigating its Qrigini or
limply declaiming on its ioiperfecHons ; it
will be but candid to weigh the force of the
arguments, which are urged by the favourers
of this innovated art*

The firft and moft flattering to the paflions
pf the public is, that vicious, or ridiculous s
>phara(3:ers* tho' feptimental waiters are fioujly
afraid fuch dofometimes exift in nature, yet
it would ill become the dignity of their pens
to exhibit them on the ftage, leaft they might
bccpnie objeds qf imitation i hence they are
for tbe moft part excluded their pieces, or if
tX tinges admitted, but feebly iketcbed in the
back ground, whilft the principal figure? arp
tricked out in all the brilliancy of virtue,
without the leaft ihade of mortality. To pafs
by the great defefl: of this pa(9:ice, as it rcr
fpefts the laws of comedy; let us take it up on
their own ground, and fee how it is fitted to
fucceed in the refarmatm of manners.

The foundeft philofophers have agreed,
that ridicule has a much better efFed: in curjng
the vices, iapd ingtperfcsftions of men, than
the eK»mples of rigid virtue, whofe duties
^e fo fublimed, f hat they for the moft part
iptimidjate them from the trial. Were man-
ki»d n»de of that mofaj pliability of naind, fo
^s to.be capable pf receiyipg the fharpeft im-

L preffions

I 146 1

pTcfflons of virtue, theft indeed fome excufe
might ftand for the latter pra<ftice ; but as their
hearts ^e compofed of as many degrees of
imperfection, as there are degrees in fociety—
what will heft, and moft effcdtaally reform
them, (hould be adopted) hence no charadters
fliould be introduced on the ftage by any means
whatever, above the tone of mortality, whilft
the I far, rake, fop, Jharper, hypocrite, g Jut ton,
&CC.&CC. fliould be always brought forward
in the warmeft colourings of ridicule. Simi-
lar characters in life, finding themfelves thus
conftantly expofed on the ftage, would indi-*
redly feel thtjhame of their fituations, and
cither abandon them entirely, or be taught
to qualify them fo as to be lefs inimical to
fociety ; whereas at prefent, by being for the
moft part, precluded as objects of ridicule,,
^nd contempt, the world lofes the benefit of
their reformation.

Another argument urged for our fenti-
mental dramatifts is, that as 'tis the world
gives reputation and credit to works of art
and fcience i it at prefent, reliftiing no other
fpecies of comedy but ^Qjentimental, they
are not to be blamed for writing up to that
ftandard. But this is ever the excufe oi little
minds, ^Vho under a ihew of complying with
the world, cover their own ignorance, and.
«nfitnefs, to ftand candidates for fame, and

immor-

[ H7 }

immortality; as there is nothing more cer-?

tain, than that a real genius; in whatever
kind, can never, without the greateft unwil-
lingnefs, and' fhame^ be induced to adt be-
low his charadler, and for mere intereji be
prevailed on to proftitute his knowledge, by
performing contrary to certain rules.

Whoever has heard any thing of the lives
of famous ftatuaries, architedts, or painters,
will call to mind many inftances of this na-
ture? Or whoever has made any acquaint-
ance with the better fort of mechanics y fuch'
as are real lovers of their art, tmd mailers in
it, muft have obferVed their natural fidelity
in this refpedt ? be they never fo idle, dif-
folute, or debauched s how regardlefs foever
of other rules, they abhor any tranfgrefSpn
in their art, and would chufe to lofe cuftom-
ers and ftarye, rather than by a bafe compli-
ance with the world, ad contrary to what
they call the juilnefs, and truth of work *•

This is virtue ! real virtue, and love of
truth, independent of opinion, and above
the world; this difpofition transferred to
the whole of life, perfeds a charaaer, and
gives it that finifh which extQrt$ even. ;hc ad-
miration of thofe who cannot^pradife it.

Had the early poets of Greece thus com-
plimented the world by complying with its

L 2 falfe

* LordShaftefbury'scharaacriftics.

t 148 3

falfe relifta, and unfettled appetites, they had
not done their countrymen fuch fefvice, nor
themfelves fuch honour; thofe generous
fpirits fcorning to fuit themfelves to the
world, manfully drew it after them ; they
forced their way into it, and by weight of
merit turned its judgement on their fide;
they formed their audience, refined the pub-
lic ear, and polilhed the age, that in return
they may be rightly and laftibgly applaudfcd :
they were not difappointed, applaufe foon
came, and waslaftirig, for it was found; they
have juftice done them at this day, they
liave furvived their nation, and live in all
languages ; the more each age is enlightened,
the more they (hine, and their fame mufl
neceflarily laft as long as letters, and judge-
ment exift.

Many of our fentimental dramatic authors,
'tis true, may pique themfelves on their fu-
periof fituations in life to fevera] of thofe of
antiquity, and jocularly confign immortality
to fuch who are now no longer able to enjoy
it; Hot confidering, hccznk not Jeelmg, that
fbis hope of immortality ."^zs then as much
their reward, as their labours have fince been
the benefit of pofterity. They may run the
comparifon ftill further, by proving (as well
hy the receipts of the theatres, as by thofe

of

t H9 ]
of their bookrdlcrs) how much more exa<St

they afe in proportioning the quaUty^ cind
quantity 9 of the public demand^ and with,
what greater . dexterity, and cunning, they
pander to the tafle of an audience : but fuch
are to know, tliat fuccefs is by no means
the criterion of defert ; that however, they
may, for a while, triumph in the abfence of
truth, and nature, the period is haftening (if
the proverb is true, that things at the
worji muft neceflarily mend) when this fpell
of fmtimental enchantment muft be dif*
folved, and 'when real comedy fhall once
more unfurl her ftandard of reafon on thQ
theatre.

The public at large have fometimcs their
falfe appetites, and unnatural cravings like
individuals, which; fuch is the iituation of
human affairs,^ time, or accident alone,
muft eradicate. The Fanatics under Crom-
well, with all the parade of hypocrify on
one fide, and the vindidlive fpirit of revenge
on the other, chriftened their condudt reli--
gion ; and not only the dregs of the people
hailed it by this name, but the guardians of
the ftate echoed it back on the public ; yet
but a few years, a. very few years elapfed,
when this ridiculous fcenc had its final clofe,
reafon once more re-afllimed her throne;

L 3 and

C 150 3

and he that had no other pretenilons tov
chriftianity than the ftarchnefs pf his bandy
or the talent of /peaking though his nofe^
was juftly reprobated as a cheat, or a dri-
veller.

CHAP.

[ 151 1

G HA P. xviri.

^hafthe CbaraSiers of Comedy are far from

Mejing as yet eo^baujied^

>

ANOTHER argument urgei by the
writers oi fentimental comedy, .as an
excufe for their want of genius is, that moft,
if not all, the comic fubje^ifts are already cx^
haufted. They will allow that tragic poets
can never want fubjecSs, becaufe they can
introduce perfonages into any aftion in what-*
eve^r fort of charadter they pleafe, 'and ^can
embeilifh alfo the fable with- extraordinary
incidents, invented j 6ft as^ their fancy fug^^
gcftsj but a comic .poet, . fay they, muft
.exhibit portraits. in which ,We can difcover
thofe with whom w'o live, and converfe j
confequently Shakcfpeare, Mbliere, &c. and
their fuccefTors, h,ave been before - hand
with us in feizing all the reAl 'cha;ra<fters in
nature.

In anfwer to this obje<3:l6n, we may ^en*
ture to affirm, that Shakefpearc, Moliere,
&c. and their imitators, have ftill left for
the ftagq characters in abundance for form-^
ihg the fubjedls of comedy. The cafe is pretty

L 4 nearly

I 152 1

nearly the fame with refpeft to men's minek,
and charafters^ as with their countenances ;
man's face is compofed of tlie feme parts^ of
two eyes, one mouth, &c. and yet men's
countenances are all different, beeaufe they
are differently compofed ; now the charafters
of men are not only differently compofed^
but beiides they are not always the fame
parts, that is, the fame ^ices, the fame vir-
tues, and the . fame projeds, . that enter into
the compofition of their charader 5 where*
fore, the characSters of men ought to have
a much greater difference, and variety, than
even men's faeces.

The word character implies a compofitioii

of feveral faffings ahd virtues; in this
mixturey fome particular vice predominates^
if the charai^er be vicious i and fome virtue
x>T other prevails, if the charadfcer be virtuous;
fhn^ the di&i:^t charaftcrs of men are
fo diverfified by this mixture of vices,
virtues, and natural parts differently combin«-
ed, that t^tp chara^ers perfectly alike, are a
much greater phenomenon in nature than
two faces of a complete refemblance.

]£very well drawn charadter makes a good
perl^age in comedy, and every fuch charac-
ter can adt with fuccefs a part, more or lefs
long, more or lefs important— why (hould
love be a privileged paflion and the only one

th ivt

C 153 ]

that can fiirnifti a variety of charadlers, by
means of the diverfity, which age, fex, and
profeffion, caufe in the fentiments of lovers ?
Cannot the charadter of a mifer be likewift
varied by age, by paffions, as alfo by profef*
(ion ? thefe charafters if v^rell drawn^ would
never be tirefome, becaufe they exift in na^
ture, and a plain and ingenuous defcriptioii
of her, is always agreeable. If therefore, any
of our modern comic writers complain of
their being unable to bring new charad:ers
upon the ftage, it muft proceed from theit
inot being clear lighted enough to read intd
ttature, to unravel diftin<5tly the different
principles of the fame anions, and to feft
how the fame principles operate differently
upon every individual.

To have a diftind andjufi idea of what
can form a chara<fter, requires a capacity of
difcerning three, or four touches, that belong
to a man's peculiar temper, amongft twenty^
or thirty things which he fays, or does in
common with the reft of mankind ; one muft
likewife coUeft thefe touches, and purfuing
the ftudy of the model, extrad, as it were
from his adlions, and difcourfes, fuch ftrokes
as are propereft for conveying a knowledge of
the portrait.

Thefe

t 154 ]

Thefe are the ftrokes which feparated frortt
fuch ifldifFerent things, as all men fay, and
/ do pretty near alike, and afterwards q^lefted
together, conftitute what we call zcbaraSler^
and give it its theatrical iinifh : all men ap-
pear alike to limited capacities \ to pcrfons. of
a better underftanding they all feem differ-
cnt* Thus every man is an original to a
post blefl with a truly comic, and diftin-
gnifliing genius.

The portraits of ordinary painters are gene-
rally placed in one attitude, and have nearly
the fame air, becaufe fuch painter^ are not
knowing enough in their art to difcern the
individual difference, which difqriminates
^ch part'cular portrait; but an able artiil
knows how to give every one the certain air,
and attitude, that belongs to him, by virtue
of his conformation ; for pofTcfling the talent
ofdifcerning people's natural temper, and dif-
pofition, which are always different, the
countenance, ind aftibn, therefore, of the
perfons he draws, are conflantly varied.

Experience likewife helps us very much to
find out the real difference between objeds,
which, at firfl fight, appear'the fame. Thofe
who look at negroes, for inflance, the firfl
time, imagine their countenances are all a-
like, but by feeing them often they difcover
as great a variety in their faces as in thofe of

Europeans \

I

[ '55 )

-Europeans. 5. and henee, ;MoUere found otit
more originals, in the worjd wbjen he camic
to the age of fifty, thaiji ,when4>e \vas buj
forty; becaufe he had: looked longer, and

inpre Intenfely, on the^ diffetTpntfe^tjLir^s of
mankind. ....

The generality of thcWQrldi arc;- only
capabje of -(^ifeoverin^ a; charaiftep,; when
it has receive^ . \ts ^tte tform, i .and. ^as been
theatrjically; fipi^ed^ but;i. there aiJej ji^ne,
excep(-^uch.asa.ff jK^£l^d,;with a ^^nius for
comedy, that are capable of difcerning this
chara(9;er as long as the particular ilrokes
which are neceffary for difcerning it, remain
blended and confufed in an in6nite variety
of difcourfes, and adtions, which decency,
mode, cuftom, profeffion, and intereft, fet
all men upon faying, and doing, pretty near
with the fame air 5 'tis they alone can inform
us what charafter would refult from thofe
ftrokes were they to be detached, and after-
wards cpntradted in one body. In fine, to
difcern the difference of charadiers in nature,
being properly the work of invention, a man
that is born without a comic genius properly
improved, is as incapable of diflinguifh-
ing thofe charaders, as a perfon without
a genius for painting, is unable to difcern
which are the moft proper objeds in nature
for the exercife of his profeffion. — ** How

piany

r ^5^ 3

many things (fays Cicero) clo painters oWcrve
in a particular incident of light, that are
imperceptible to our eyes."

We conclude, therefore, that a poet,
whom a di^fition 6f genius, land not a mer--
eenerary view of/ui^ence, has called to the
art, will always be Ale to difcover new fub-
*jeds' in nature i his predeceflbrs (if we may
1)e ullofwed the figurative ejcprellion) having
'left hktf perhaps as ixmch marble in the
quarry z6 they themfelres have difinterred^

>' • »

» * ^ fl

CHAR

I ^57 }

C H A P. XIX.

A

tVhetber T^ragedy^ or Comedy^ he the more Sf^

ficuit to "write ?

WAS this queftion to be decided ^y the
general fuccefs of either, the former
undoubtedly would claim thei preference*
Comedy being a piSure of living manners,
moft people think themfelves qualified to
like, or diflike ; whilft tragedy marking the
charaders of perfons much above this level,
bulled in the condudt of great events, unfa-*
miliar to the walks of middle life, deters the
many from attempting to judge even of its
errors (except indeed, they are very glaring)

whilft its beauties are always fure to captivate,
and furprife ; thus tragedy has a kind of arti-
ficial advantage over comedy. But as 'twould
be as unfair to reft upon fuch a decifion, as it
would be to afcribe wifdom to a judge,
merely becaufe he is dreffed differently
from other men, we (hall take a more
impartial view of this queftion, by confi-
dering, and contrafting, its refpeftive dif-
ficulties.

Though

t 158 ]

Though the general outlines of tragedy arc
limited, its charaAers are without number ; as
diffimulation, jealoufy, policy, ambition, and
other interefts, and paffions which take a
thoufand different forms m different fituations
of hiftory . Thus the ambitious, blood- thirfty
Richard III. fo happily painted by Shake-
ipeare,' did' not ftafnd in the way of the fame
poet when he drew his Macbeth; a fmall
alteration of chara<Ster difcriminated them fo
. as to make them equally ftriking, new and
diftindt ; for tho* they are both poffeffed of
ambition, and both waded through blood to
their feveral ciowns, yet by giving the former
a natural difpofition for cruelty, and the
other an artificial one, moftly made up by
the folicitations of his wift, the incidents
produced in confequence, become as unlike
in each as two tragedies formed upon extreme
different fubje<fts.

But the cafe is much the contrary, with
avarice, jealoufy, vanity, hypocrify, and
other vices, corlfidered as the fubjedls of
comedy; it would be ealier to double, and
treble, all the tragedies of our grcateft poets,
and multiply their fubjeds almoft wihout
end, than introduce again upon the ftage,
any of Moliere's principal charafters ; not
2 that

" [ 159 3

»

that the popular vices belonging to fuch, arc
lefs capable of diverfification, or are lefs va-
ried by different circumftanees than the vices,
and paflions of heroes, bat that if they wcr^
to be brought on again in comedies (except
by a firft-rate genius) they w^ould be lefs di-
ftind:, lefs exait, lefs forcible, and confe-
quently lefs applauded; pleafantry, and ri-
dicule, requiring to be more ftrongly mark-
ed than hcroifm, and pathos, w^hich prin-
cipally fupport themfelves by their own
force*

If comedy was amongft us what it is in
Spain, a kind of romance, confifting of
many circumftanees, and intrigues, perplex-
ed, and difentangled, merely for the purpofe
of furprife, there would be always a rcfourcc
found in a variety of incidents ; but the cafe
is very different 5 real comedy calls for new
cbaraBers ; multiplicity of accidents, and
the laborious contrivance of an intrigue, no
more xki^w fentimental drivelling^ will be al-
lowed to fheltcr a weak genius, who woul4
find great conveniences in either way of
writing ; her tafte requires an air lefs con-
ftrained, and fuch a freedom^ and eafc of
manners, as equally preclude the preacher^
and romance writer ; allowing nothing but a
fucceffion of char^dters refcmbling nature,

and

I i6o }
and falling in without any laboured contny-*
ance.

But let us confider the final purppfcs of
tragedy and comedy. Is not the one the art
pf ftriking thofe firings of the heart whifch
are mo& natural, (error, and pity ? And
is not the pother, the art of making us kugh f
now the gentleman, and the "ruftic, ' \n
tragedy :^ have both fenfibility and tendernefs
of heart, perhaps, in a greater or lefs degree ^
but as they are mm alike, the heart is moved
by the fame touches ; whereas in comedy
the firings which mufl be touched for this
purpofe, are not the fame in the gentleman^
and the ruflic. The latter ^ will laugh out ^
on the coarfefl jefl, whereas the former
is only to be moved by a delicate conceit j
the paffions depending on nature, merriment
«poa education.

The fpedators of a tragedy, if they havp
'but little knowledge, are almofl all on a
level ; but with refpedl to comedy, we have
many clafTes of people, all of whom will
judge in tlieir own way. The laughter of a
theatre is of a very different (lamp with
that which is given to good humour, convi-
viality, complaifance, refpeft, and flattery.
In thefe artifice and wine, are the general
motives; but in a theatre every fpefiator
irnpartially judges of wit, by his own fland-

2 ard

/

[ i6i ]

ard, and meafures its extent and force by his

capacity, and condition. Thus different

capacities and conditioriis of men, making

them diverted on very different occafions,

it requires the highefl exertion of genius^

to diffufe wit or humour, fo as it fhall be

univerfally felt.

If, therefore, we cdnfider the end of the

tragic and comic poet, the comediaA mufl

be involved, in much more difficulties, with-

out taking in the obflrudlions to be encoun-*

tered equally by both, in an art which coriufts

in raifing tlie paffions, of the mirth of a

great multitude. The tragedian has little to

do but to refledt upon his own thoughts,

and draw from his heart ihofe feritinleiits

which will certainly make their vvay to the

hearts of others ; vvhilft the coniedian mufl

take many forms, and change hifrtfelf, like
a fecond Proteus, almoft into as many per-

fons as he undertakes to divert. In fhorf^
to make the former, is to get rtiaterials to-
gether, and to arrange them like a Ikilful
archite<3: ; but to make the latter, is to build,
like /Efop, in the air. Hence we would give
the preference to comedy, which we would
be undefftood, however,, by no means, to
pronounce as a dogma, but as an opinion vve
have a fight to give upon a general fubjed of
tenquiry.

M CHAP.

'I 162 "I

I *

c a, A P« xx^.

Of Pantomime.

THE name of .pantomime, which figni-
fies an imitator of cveiy things was
firil given to thofe comedians, who imi-
tated and explained all forts of fuBjefts by
geftures. It originated amongft the Romans,
as we are told by ZoziniuS, and Suidas, un-
der the reign of Auguftus Caefar..

irhe two fir A inventors of this new art,

were Pylades, and Bathyllus, who have

Iboth rendiered their names celebrated in the

Roman hiftory. They were both rivals in

their art, the former proteded by the lEm-

peror, the latter by Mecsenas, and their dif-

^utes, at times, ran fo high with the public,

that Caefar himfelf once advifing Pylades to

live in greater harmony with his competitor,

the other had the confidence to remark,

" That the beft thing that could happen to

him, was to fee his people bufied in fuch a

difpute ;" thereby indicating, that he could

, carry on the purpofes of government more

tininterruptedly.

What feems very furprifing, - that thofe
pantomimes who fo charmed the Roman

people

-JJedplefift'this »ra of their higfidl pollilij
(Spd re^neamiit^ did not make ufe of the
•AJPtionjlof their^ face • it being certain that
^tibfiy geftieulated with majks, in the fame '
marniicr ais the other comedians. Lucian
4ays, in his treatife of dancing, ^^ That the
pantomimic mafk had hot a wide mouthy
iike tiia{e of commbn comedians, but wa$
much handfbmerj" and Macfobins relate8>
** Tljat Pylades being vexed one day when
^e wps/aQing the charader of Hercules
FiMr^/Rf^ becaufc the rpedtators complained his
gdticuiatiQU was extravagant,'" cried dut to
^themv if* -Don't 5P0U know, ye fools, that I
.am a(3ing the part of a greater fool thati
yourfelvfcs."

yet, in0t>p;ridiftanding this very great incon*-

, venieace, die pantomime was fo entire

i i)iafter o£ his adion, .and rendered his ex^

.pcefilon ,£> marking, and intelligible, that

their general 'charad:er was,— —

^ot linguae quot membra viro, mirabilis eft arf
' ^cefmdt attfcuiosy tirejlenti loqui^

and Caii3jdqrus( with many other refpe<ftable
;aatlK>rs) ^ter Ipeajcing of the tragedies, and

. cooaedies,. th?it^ were reprcfen ted on. the ftage,
calls the pantomimes, " Men whofe elo-
quent hands, had a tongue as it were on the

;. . . ' M 2 tip

t 164 ]

tip of each finger: men who fpoke whilff
they were filent, and who knew how to
make an entire recital without opening their
mouths I men, in fliort, whom Polyhymnia
had formed, in order to (hew that there was
no npccffity for articulating in order to con-
vey our thoughts."

Lucian, likewife, declares himfelf a zealous
partifan of thefe dumb comedians, and we
find, he took a pleafure in relating fuch
fa<3;8 iais might be an honour to their profef*
fiort. Amongft other things, he fays, that
a Cynic philpfopher. treated their art as a
childifli amufement, and defined it a ct}llec-
tion of .gefticulations, which the mufic and
decorations rendered barely tolerable ; but
a pantomime of Nero's court, willing to
<hew this Philofopher he was in the wrong,
executed before him the amours, of Mars
and Venus, in dumb declamation, without
a:fty iiiftrunient to accompany him ; upon
which the Cynic frankly acknowledged they
were mailers of a real art.

The fame author relates, that a king
whofe dominions bordered upon the Euxine
fea, happening to be ^ Rome w^der the
reign of Nero, begged of that prince very
earneftly, to let him have a pantomime he
had feen aft, that he might make him his
general interpreter in all languages, ** This

fellow

«i

[ 1^5 ]
fellow (iaid he) will make all the world un-
derftand him» whereas I am obliged to have
I don't know how many interpreters, in or-
der to keep up a correfpondence with my
aeighbours, who Ipeak a great many differ-
ent languages, which I don't underftand."
Tho' 'tis not very difficult to conceive how
the pantomimes could contrive to give an
intelligible defcription of an adlion, anci to
fignify by their gefture the words taken in
their proper fenfe ; fuch as the heavens, thtf
earth, a man, &c. But how is it poffible
(fome will aik) to exprefs by geftures, words
taken in a Jigurath^ f^^/^9 which occur fo
frequently in poetry.

The only fatisfadlory anfwer we can give
to this queftion is, to relate the following
ftory from Macrobius, which in a great re-
fped, may give us fomcidea of the manner;
Hilas, the ,difciple, and competitor of Pyla-^
des, (the firft inventor of pantomin^e) exe-
cuted a monologue after his manner, which
fflded with thefe words, " The Great Aga^
memnon j" Hilas to exprefs . them, made all
the geftures of a mail that wants to meafUre
. another bigger thai) himfelf ; when Pylades^
who was in the pit, unable to-, contain him*'
felf, cried out, *^ Friend, by this yoi| make
Agamemnon only a big man, not a great
plan." On this the people immccliately

M X called

[ ^ y

caUe4 out for Pylades to ^erforM it S^mftlV ]t
he complied ; and. when lie caine tbtbat |)flrt'
for which he had publicly ccnfumihis dif^
ciple, he; reprefented by his geftisre^ and aw
titude, the cottntenancb of aperfoa imnipriibd;
in deep nueditation, .ppintjng out V^^y pro-?^
perly by this a<S)ion, that a man. greate^*
than others w^ be whp had proftjondtij?
Hhoughts.

As \ye cannot, however, bring x^cular tefti-?i
pony to the reprefentatlons of *thofe pantov*
mimes, we areas little capable of deciding tai
the pofitive merit of their art, and how it W41S
poflible to be executed with fuch aftonifhing
fuccefs, as we arc of the method of divid-r
ing the antient declamation between twp
aftors ; thofc, however,, who are diverte4
with feeing the Italian comedy af this day,
ynay be even from, this fpecimen, convinced,
that feveral fcenes may be executed without
rpeal^jng; ,bat we can alledge a fad as rc-^
lated by the Abbe Du Bos, which will e-
vince better than any argument the poflibility
of the execution.

" About the beginning of this century, 1
princcfs *, remarkable for her great taleiitSj

dn4

• Tho' the Abbe Du Bos hns not named this prfn-:

- cefs, we think it pretty evident, he itMift mean ChriAina

Queen of Sweden, daughter of the Great Guftavas Adol-

[ i67 ]■

and tafte for public fpe<aacle$, had a mind
to fee an eflfajr of thie antient pantomiipic art,
in order to acquire a clearer idea of their
repreientations, than (he had conceived by
readini;^ Fof want of aftors pradifed in this
art, fhe folicited ^ pian and woman danger
of a fiiperior genius in their profeflion, and
extremely capable of inventing. She had

ordered them to get ready, to represent
only with gcfticulation^ iat the theatre de
Sceaux^ the fcene of the fourth adt of the
Horatii of Corneille, in which the young
Horadus' kills his lifter Camilla. They ac-
cordingly executed it, accompanied with
tnufic, adapted by a great mafter, to the
RTords of the fcene 5 the effedt of which was,
our;two new pantomimes animated one ado?
thcr to fuch a degree, by their gpfticulations^
and - expreflive movements, that at length
riiey flied tears, and confequently communi-r
cated them to the whole audience."

From this inftance, which is too recent,
and com'es from too refped:able an author tQ

ht doubted, we niay very well credit antir
ouity for the furprifing accounts of their

. M 4 panto^

phnA, w^O^ pnohant fbf ihe fine arts, and tbe geper^
ftudy of ^ti<iuity was fo great^ that for tJie purpofe of giving
up all her time to travel, amd improvement, flie qaitted t^o
throne of )»er.anc«ftors, in the very meridiai^i^f iifeand^pow^.

[ i68 ]

pa5tomimes ; particularly, 'when wc confidcr
tjhe very great pains they were at ife breeding,
them up to this profeflion. Under an idea,*
that caftration produced a fupplenefs in their
bodies fuperior to other men, they all pre-
vioufly underwent this operation; the pan-
tomimer likewife required a particular flze,
and make ; and after he had been inftrudted
in feats of aftivity in attitude) and grace,
he underwent a regular ftudy in mufic,
hiftory, and fcveral literary accomplifh*
jnents.

This art at prefent lingers in Italy; in
England, tho' it never arrived to perfedion in
all its parts, (perhaps on account of our natural
aftion not being lively and eloquent enough
-to be readily underftood without the accom-^
panyment of difcourfe) yet it received great
encouragement at tinges ; particularly, under
the celebrated Lun, and his pupil Mr. Rich^
latf fole patentee of Covent-Garden theatre ;
who as far as mimicry went in their own
perfons (bating the wide difference • between
antient and modern pantomimic education)
were perhaps little inferior to the artifts of
antiquity.

But it has been the cafe with this country,
that however, we may have occafionally
fucceeded in pantomime perforiners, the art
itfelf came tP us in a mutilated, and impcr?

[ i69 ]
fedt (late. With the Romans, there Was
always a 4i>le invented, or taken from hifto->
ry, compofed of regular parts^ ^'by which
it became a confiderablc fpecies of the
drama; .full of inftrudion, and entertain-
Oienty and was in confequence (as we have
before obfervcji) often much more followed
than tragedies and comedies. With us, we
never had a fable important enough to draw
the attention,: ai)d efteem of the curious 5
i:onfequently the whole force of the panto**'
mime refled on a fingl^ pharad:er, who ge^
nerally wafted his attitudes in the explana^
tiqn of trifles. But even thefe imperfeia
remains of pantomime are now ej^ploded j for
fine? the death of Mr, Rich, we have h^d no
pantomime who did not coniider his art to
confift in fidgettihg, fkipping, and leaping;
and as for fable^ it is entirely fubftituted by a
jumble of mechanical deceptions, obvioufly
calculated for no bther purpofe, than to draw
.together the great, and little vulgar, at the
tjfpence of public tafte, and judgement?

C H A F.

/ C H A F, XJ^I, '

Of Far ^^.

THKyWord is geRersflly allowed to de*r
f iv€ from the • French word Ftirct,
which hgnifiQs Jvrved meat, orftuffiag; |)er-*'
haps alluding to its hcing forced in amongft
ciore rational amufements, to make Ae
whole more palatable t<^ the grofs rfan audi ^
cnce. It feems to he a <Jothic imitation of
the eptient Mimes, and wginally eoQ^iled
of little pieices ^^ drofleryj^ ^xhihiteA by buf^^
foons in the open ftreet«, to gather people
together, as is done at this day, ia ^My
(quarfes of ^bis metriE>p©lis, by mountdbariksn
itnd others , The |)pets jr^owi^ing ^he wild-4
nefs of thofe primitive farces, removed ihem
from the ftreets to the 'theatre, ^nd jnftead of
1>eing performed by Jack PiKWings, brought
them Ibmewhat to the inannor of comedyj^

and had them performed by regular ^x>n>e«

dians.

_ ^

, . The difFereiice betweea the two on our ftage
is, that comedy keeps to nature and proba^
bility, being confined to certain laws, and
prefcriptions, whereas the other, occqfionally
difpenfes with all laws; its principal cn4
.^cing . merely to make merry, it confequent-

ly

/

Jy re|eft6jtiothing that may contribute to tl!at i
pointy however wild, and extravagant; \
hence the 4ial6gue is jllually lDtv>. Jthe char- /
fa<5ters of inferior rank, the fable trivial, or v
jji4iculou^ '.^^d. aatwc, and tr.iith,^ every /
where heighteppd te^ affpjrd the more palpallle ^ .

fidicule. a^ ^^H^^t^ i^it- / .w * iX'-~f..<,j^'i x.> /-^/-r *• r. •- /■f-f-t--

But w? arfl; every day injproyinif in thi> ,
jdepartrxxent of the drama j as the farces, pf
thefe laft tXyenty years, inftead of eachibiting
jhe moft improbable fahles, and loweft ipcV .
pies of huniourj^ have ^flunjed the denomina-
tion ef petite pieces of comedy ^or as they
^re generally called comedies of two afts,J
which, howeyet, they may want the full
Extent of the vis comtca, are many of them^
far from being deficient in outline, humour,
jind pbfervatlpiu We ihould confider it
fomc. degree of injuffice, not to mention
thaf the publip are principally indebted for
this reform to Mr. Mprphy, who has
{hewn fuch a happinefs in his choice of
fubjeiSts, and fuch a knowledge of the worI4
in treating them, "that from their real merit^
^nd the warm reception ,thtt;: ftijl meet
with (n6tw|thftanding /thefr rnovelty has
J>een long fincj? worn ^ofF)^they bid fair to
^ead the prefent rtock of adting farces,
whilft a real tafte for thife fpccies of the drama
|:cmains amongft us; ' {^' - -

CHAP,

{ 17* J

CHAP. XXII.

^ Sketch of' the Education of the Greek and

Roman ASiors.

»

5/ I ^ IS but reafonable to judge of the pro-*.
JL grefs a nation ma(Je in arts, of which
we have no monument^ to found a folicj de-
cifion of, by the progrcfs this very natioa
made in other arts of which we havefome
remains. Now the "monuments extai^ of
poetry, eloquence, painting, fculpture, and
the architediire of the antients, are eyidenjt
proofs that they w?re fkilf ul in all thefe arts,
and had carried them to a high degree of
perfedion j from thefe, why fliould not our
opinion be in favour of their theatrical repre-
fentations, fo as to incline us to think, we
fhould give them (could we but fee them) the
fame commendations we beftow on their
buildings, ilatues, and writings f and froni
this line of dedudtipn, may w? pot drgw from
the excellence of their poems, a ^ropg prer
fumption in favour of the merit of their
aftors, who muft, to have done juftice to
fuch excellent compofitions, be perfedl maf-
ters in judgement, grace, and elocution ?

But

f ^^73 '],

JBut we can go further In this point than
mere inferences ; ' we are pofitively informed
of foipe. fafts, that ftiew the profeffion to be
^t once liberal^ and acquired by thofe pro-
greffive cxercifes, and ftudies neceflary to
fup'pdrtfuch excellent compofitions. In the
firft place, we are informed,, that an appren-
ticeship (where hi all probability none were
admitted but thofe who had proper perfonal,
and piehtal. qualifications, to recommend
them) was abfolutely neceflary, Cicero tells
us *, that frequently after this, the tragic
'players lifed to pradtiife whole years before
they appeared upon the ftage ; and the
Scholiaft of Ariftophanes, pofitively fays,
no ador could publicly appear on. the ftage
'till b? was ti^iy years of age ; a period of
life, however, it may be now thought too
late for the reprefentation of youthful paf-
fions, and the general ardour of the profef-
fion J yet by no means fo, — when we con-
. fider the various kinds of knowledge^ i^nd
laborious exercifes, demanded from an adlor
of antiquity.

They likewife, in the beginning declaim-

. cd fitting ; with a view of acquiring (which

it certainly ^iFedled) a greater facility when

they come to fpeak Handing upoii the ftage ;

For

* Cic. de Orat lib. I.

t

For as . C^intitian ♦ obftinres, ,** The Iz^nt
we go through in our apprenticefliip, . fliould
be much harder than what we are to endure
whea we become maftew of our jirt**' Henpe
it was ufual, to exerclfe the Gladiators with
heavier arms than thpfe, with whi^h they
fought.

Cicero again informs us -J*, that' the ^reajt
aftors would never fpeak a yvofd in' the
morning before they, had i expeijlprated pie-^
thodicalIy>,their vpice^ ^^^^% ^^ loie py de-*
jgrees, that they might ,;iot hurt thp, organs
by emitting it wlth'ltoo much precipitancy^
and violence. They likewifc took care to
lye in bed during this excrgifc } after they
liad done adting, — they in this pofture, care-
, fully, fhut up the voice again, (if we may
be allowed the expreffion) firft raifing it to
thieiiigheft tone to which they had afcended
in declaiming, and afterwards depreffing it
fucceflively, 'till they came to the loweft.

The lingularity of this afiertion, though
coming from fnch authority, may be doubt-
ed, did not the writings of Ae ^ntients

abound with fads, which (hew that their

» • » • •

attention to whatever tnight ftrengthcn, and
improve the voice, was carried evfen to a de-
gree of fuperftition. We find by<hediiid

-diopter

* Q^int. lib. U. f Ck. de Orat. lib. L

>

tf

I f7^ ^

chapUr of the elcvtenth book of- Q^Intiliaa^s

inifitutes, that with refpea to all kinds o^
eloquence, the antients made a profound
ikudy pf the voiced and of all the .methods
for clarifying, arid ilreDgthening it^ Nay,,
the art of man^ngj, and preferving it, was
become a particular profefSon, -and Pliny
points out ^in ieyeral parts 6f his natural
hiftofy no lefs than twenty plants whicl^
were reckoned fpecifics for that purpofe.
Nero * was the inventor of a aew method
of ftrengthening the voice, which confiftcd
in ^ declaimiag as Ipud as poffible, with ^a
leaden plate upon his breafl; arid Suetoni-
us -j- adds to this account, that upon, his re*
turn from Greece^ he was, fo extremely care ?
Jvl of. not hurting it, that he npt only made
life of feveral |)articular drugs, but whenever
he mnftered his troops, he declined calling
.each foldier by Jbis . name, according to the
cuilom of the Komans, but ordered a do«
jxiefUc to perfown that office.

From the great care and attention, fhewn
by the antients* in, this particular, we may
infer; whet induftry the feveral parts of their
profeffion cod them. We have already feeii,
in the former part of this work, that a
knowledge of muiic, and dancing, were

likewife

4

♦ Plinjr hift. lib, 39. cap. HI* f "Suctonhisin Nwpire,

. t i76 4 . .

likewi(e abfolutcly neceffary, othefwife tfi^
iaitation, and recitation, could not be per-
formed to any advantage ; fo that upon thd
whole, we may reafonably conclude, that
the entire qualifications 'of an adtor were
fuch as gave him many, ana fuperior advan-
tages to other profeflions.

The public at large, affifted by their en-*
couragement, llich combined talents; by
holding* the profeffion liberal, and paying
every compliment to its profejflbrs. The fpec-
tators who comp6fed an antient audience,
tho' fo very numerous, fat with the greateft
attention, and decorum; if any one offended,
he was immediately turned out by the pro-
per officers in waiting, and if he perfifted in
difturbing the audience, a fine was his
punifliment. In Greece, the aftors were
generally perfons of the firft rank in letters "
as in family, and for the moft part orators
and poets; nay, fometimes we find kings
themfelves unbinding, for awhile, the diadems
from their brows, to improve and entertain
their fubjefts on the ftagcJ^

In Rome, indeed, from the fcandalous
lives of fome of the loweft of the profeffion,
the comedians were excluded from the free-
dom of the city; yet thofe who became
eminent in their art, and undebauched in
their lives, were . fure of acquiring riche $,

freedom^

I "^n 1

freedom, and the public cfteem, *Tis to the
Grecian ador Satyrus, the world is indebt-
ed to the thunders of Demofthenes, and we
have it under his own hand, that the attic
eloquence of Gicero received no inconfider-
able force, and polifli from the precepts and
examples of his friend Rofcius.

».*-

*..

*.-•• ♦ . *.♦

N

chap;

[ 178 ]

CHAP. xxin.

General Injir unions for fucce£ding, in the Art

of Acting.

FROM the preceding chapter, we are
enabled to judge, that the profeffioh of
.aiding is not as much attended to now as it
was formerly. Without going into invidious
comparifons, we fee the one attained by a
previous education and uncommon induftry^
the other generally taken up to indulge with
more impunity the follies or vices of youth,
or as the dernier refource of difficulty and dif^
trefs. Wq (hould be forry, however, to fay,
there are not fome exceptions to this affertion,
particularly one^ who has affifted, perhaps,
the greateft natural genius with the moft un-
common induftry, who has thought no period
of excellence precluded him from admonition,
3od wha has made, no other ufe of the early
and united applaufes of the worlds than as a
fpur to quicken him in the further purfuits of
fame*

Were all his fraternity, like this great ex--
ample y we (hould have no occafion to fit
4ovvn to a treatife of this kind, (as 'tis from
gpeat geniufes rules are drawn, not prefcribed

to ;>

lb ;) bilt the Contfary being the laftj \Hre ima*
ginefome general" rules relative to the profef-
fion, may not be altogether unufeful ; parti-^
cularly as we are led to believe, that many
aftors, hurried away by the vulgar prejudice^
that nature muft do alU have, in cdnfequence,
paid little, or no attention to art ; thinkings
perhaps, her affiftance^ not only immaterial,
but incompatible with the genius of theif
profeffion.

The moft methodical treatifeon this fubjefti
we have ever remembered to have feen, is Mr .^

^ Aaron Hill's " Treatife on the Art of Ad-
ing,*' where he has diftributcd the whole into

"ten dramatic paffions, joy, griefs fear, anger,
pity, fcorn, hatred, jealoufy, wonder, and
love. Each of thefe he has afterwards de-
fined, and added to this definition, pafticulaf
diredions hpw to accommodate the voice ami
action I fo that, from fo copious a treatife,

,.6nc would be led to imagine he had exhaufted
the fubjedl. But he has, in our opinion, ra-
ther miftaken the manner of treating it j at-
tempting to give a rule for every thing, he
has reduced ihofe things to a ftandard of me-
chanifin, which (houl4 be left to nature and ob-

fervation ; and when he talks of xhijiretebing
of the neckf the inflation of the breafl^ the
ere£Hon of the back bone^ the minute difpofitioa
of the armsy wriji^flngcrs^ hipy knce^ ancle ^ &c-

N 2 he

'••

-Si

r iso ]

he writes- more like a- Martinet on Taftics^
than a philofbpher in the inveftigation of the
human paffions.

Shakefpearc, however, has given us a fpeci-
toen of this kind of iijftrudlion in the paffion
of anger, which is at once fo much a rule
and an example^ that 'tis impoffible for a man
cf feeling to e^tprefs the fpeech otherwife than
he has direfted ; as our readers will readily
judge from the fpeech itfelf*

** Now imitate the adtion of the tyger ;
. ** Stiffen the finews, fummon up the bloody
** Lend fierce and dreadful afpeft to the eye ;
** Set the teeth clofe, and ftretch the noftril

" wide,
** Hold hard the breath, and bend up every

'* fpirit
*' To its full height."

Leflbns containing fuch admirable inftrudtions
as this fpeech gives us, we would recommend
io the ferious perufal of every a<flor ; bbt thisf
^feat natural preceptor, was too bufy in draw-
ing the paflions thcmfelves to leave us many
rules how they (hould be mechanically ex-
prefTcd.; hence this knowledge muft princi-
pally be obtained by every performer's own-
obfervAtion and natural feelings ; rules, fb ex-
ceedingly exad:, (except, perhaps, in the
' hapds of fo inimitable a mailer as Shakefpeare)

would [

I

i

[ I«I ]

would be the fetters, inilead of die aids of
genius. But to proceed.

In the profecution of every liberal art of
profeffion, it is neceflary for the pupil to un- ,
dergo fome previous education. The divine, .
the lawyer, the phyfician, have their ,courfe$
x>f ftudy marked out for them ; nay, the me-
chanic has his feven years apprcaticefhip to
recommend him ^ and it would form one of.
thofe ridiculous circumftances, v^hiizh pcrr
haps never happened, to fee a man ftand caar
didate for any one of thefe, without attempt-
ing at leaft to deferve it. Yet fo it is^ that the
profeffion of an adtor, which is little lefs than
a combiqatiori of the polite arts, feems to be
almofl uni'Verfally neglefted. - The cormnoneji
educatiansy with an inclination for the ftage,
generally make out a paflport for its candi-
dates, and with thefe powerful acgomplijh'-
menu J they look forward, ey:en to the chair of
aGarrick.

But, like their fellow-dreamers in matri-
iBony, they foon wake behind the curtain ;
they difcover fomething wanting in them-
felves to gain them that applaufe from the
public, which youthful paffions fuggefted';
the time, however, paffes too pleafantly be-
hind the fcenes to corredt this, by facrificing
their leifure to improvement; and finding
jthemf^^lvcs kept in 4:ountenaoc9 by numbers

N 3 in

in the fame line of prbfeffion, they, by dc^
grees, entirely lofe fight of it. Thus, from the
4fearth of good aftars, (occafioned by tho
'^me negle(ft) they rife to rank on the theatre
more from feniorityy than either natural, or
acquired abilities, and converting a liberal
profeffioa into a profitable trade ^ they are con^
tent if they can merely go through their bufi^
nefsf heedlefs of fame and reputation. With-
out meaning to be particular, or the leaft ilU
naturedi we believe this pi<Sure may claim too
general a likenefs amongft the fons and daugh-
ter g of the ftage, to be rejefted as a caricatura.
To endeavour then, to make them more per-
itdt in a profeflion, which has fo many agree-
able, yet difficult parts to be known, we
fball, in the courfe of thefe chapters,- draw,
out fuch a iketch of theatrical education, as
we think^ added to a natural genius, cannot
fail (if attended to) of ai>fwering that pur-
pofe.

We muft take it for granted, that every
man^ who flands a candidate for theatrical
reputation, muft be at leaft free from thofe
perfonal defects that unfit him for the ftage j;
for fo lingular and critical are the rcquifitcs
for this profeflion, that the body^ as well as
the mind J becomes the fubjeft of a fpeftator's
gnimadverfion ; and the leaft aukwardnefs and.
deficiency in the former, will operate fo

power-?

C 183 3

^powerfully on the latter, as to involve it ia
.all its errorsw But this is a point To obvious to
the commoneft obfervation, that we fliall no.
longer iniift on it.

In refped to what degree of education may
be neceflary for an aftor, we think a thorough
knowledge of the Englifh plaflics fufficient;
yet, under this head, we would include tranf-^
lations of fuch of the antients as may be ne-^
ceflary ; not that we would, by any means,
preclude a more learned edttcation, providecj
It was accompanied with all thole oth^it
branches of knowledge, whiph form the rei»
quifites of the ftage; but it fo very rarely
happens, that a deep fcholar has facrificed
fufficiently to the graces— it is only on this
principle, we thit^k it better not to rifque fo
wide a compafs of education.

But to be more particular. It is proper for
every adtor to be well-ftudied in grammar ;
as this is an art which teaches the relation of
words to each other, it will inftruft him in
their force and meaning, and confequently
enable him to fpeak with emphafis and cor-
redtnefs. To depend on the marks and punc-*
////i^/c?« of play-houfe tranfcribers, (as we are
afraid too many of the profeflion do) is very
often depending on ignorance, fandioned by
cuftom, as fuch are in gieneral exceedingly un-
educated, and have no other guides than the

N 4 books

C '184 ] .

books and opinions of prompters,- who are
very often ihemfclves not much better ih-
formed. Aknowledge of grammar, befide
detedting the ignorance, and. 'miftakes 6{ tran-
fcribers. will likewife teach an a<S6r to deteft
the lapfes of authors themfelves, who, from
being top warmly engaged in ^he inaiii defign,
or through carelefsnefs, or ignorance, will
fometirries commit the greateft inaccuracies ;
in ihort,' fo many are the benefits refulting
from this branch of fcience, that we mud
coniider^it as an introdudlion to the profef-
jfion, not to be difpenfed with on any account
whatfoever.

To the knowledge of grammar, we would
join an acquaintance/with that part of the
Belles Lettres, which includes poetry and ora-
tory. By the forrner, tbe afto^r will not only
be able , to accuftom his mind to beautiful
images and defcriptions, but it will improve
his tafte, in dired:ing him to feize upon thofe
paflages which h« goes through, in the courfe
of his profeffion, with feeling and propriety.
The meafure of poetry will likewiie harmo-
nize his ear, and give him that facility in
fpeaking on the ftage, equal to that in com-
mon converfation, the want of which v/e have
often known to disfigure the fineft paflages,
8r}d interrupt the warmeft feelings.

In

. . ■ . . ^ I '8-5 ]
In f efpeft to oratory, we do not mean that

an aflforfhbuM go through the regular ft udy
6f it as 'laid down in the fchools, the exor-*
Hium, narration f propdjition^ confirmatkny re^
futation^^xA conclufion ; however thefe may
ferieceffaryin the fenate, the pulpit, or the
bar, xi^fs' minute knowledge may ferve him,
als his tiifinefs is not to invents but repeat i
his theQf y, ', therefore, may be formed on the
franflated orations' of Demofthenes, Cicero,
IfoGi^ates, &c. with the moft fele^ of the
moderns'; his pradtiCe on thofe of our moft
celebrated lawyers, fenators, and divines. The
ufe that fuch a knowledge will be to him
in his |)f ofeffion, muft be obvious to all thofe
who can judgd 'of the beauties of dramatic
declamation; vvho but an orator, for in-
tfance, fhbuld be entrufted with the fpeech
of Anthony over the dead body of Julius Cas-
far ? a compofition fo happily formed of the
pathetic ^nd ingenious y as, perhaps, might en-
ter the lifts with the moft finilhed orations of
antiquity.

Though it may fecm unneceflary to infift
in this place, on an intimate knowledge of
dramatic poetry j which, in fad:, is the very
bujinefs of an ador, yet the great negled: we
have obferved, even in this particular, in-
duces Us to mention it. It is very true, an
ador, in the mere routine of bufinefs, will

be

[ i86 ]
be obliged to be much convcrfitnt in this ^
knowledge; but how does heecquke.it? he
takes it up in fcraps, and at interval, when
bis duty immediately calls him out, which is
as foon again forgot; one^ therefore, who would
wi(h to take up this part of his profeffion re^
gularly, Ihould not depend on . fuch -infidentat
iludies, he fliould methodlically begin with the
ftudy of the dramatic daffies, fuch as Shake-*
fpeare, Jonfon, Beaumont, and Fletcher^
together with fuch others as are upon th^
* ftock of adting plays. By the frequent read^
ing of thefe, he will not only aflifi; l>is me*
mory, but have a view of aU the parts, mean-'
ing, and defign of each refpeftive author ; fo
that, whenever he is caft for^ a part, even on
the ihorteft notice, he will poflefs the generat
jidea of it fo ftrongly, as to make th^Tcmain-^
ing ftudy of it light and amufiag.

In this ftudy, it would be a further affift**
ance both to his memory and imagination, if
he would mark> with a pencil, particular em-
phafis on words, or remarks upon chara(9:ers,
as they ihould ftrike him ;« fo floating is the
imagination, and unconnedted the judgement^
that it is not at all times we are capable of
exercifing either the one, or the other alike j
to feize the opportunity th6n, will be an ad-
vantage, which thofe who truft, to their ge--

peral

*

fieral .recollection* will find themf4ves, for
the moft part, deprived of,

Hiftory holds toa principal a rank in this
catalogue tp be omitted ; on the contrary, it
is highly neceflj^ry.for the adtor to know it
minutely; by this branch of knowledge, he^
will be previoully informed of moft of the
plots of our beft dramatic writers, and, from
this collateral affiftance, be enabled to con-*
ceive his author more ftrongly, a circum-^
ftance, we believe, we n^ed not infill of what
infinite advantage^ The performer, likewife,
who would go deep in hi? ^profeffion, fhould
not be contpnt with modern hiftory only, he
should have a view of Greek and Roman
events, and thefe not only ip the middle, or
more afcertained ages, but in the manner
their early periods have been trapfmitted to
us, even with all their fables, errors, and
falflioods. He oygbjt to know, for example,
;all thai the antient hiftorians have r?n
lated of the labours of Hercules, of the
^expeditipn of the Argonauts, of the fiege*
fof Troy, &c. &c. for though he is at liberty
to give what degree of credit he pleafes to
particular paflages, it is neceffary for him to
know in what manner hiftory relates them ;
by this he will have a previous anticipation
of all thofe plays that are founded on hifto-
fical events, he will^enter with more fpirit and-

depth

depth into the charadt^r he reprefents, and hf
knowing all thejitfle turns and peculiarities
of its complexion, \mark it with double force
and illuftration.

'Takeaay of oiirhiftoric plays, Henry VIIL
for ihftance, and let the^ part of Henry be
given to two performers of* equal merit, in
every other refped, but that the one is well
acquainted with Englifli hiftory, the other
not, and /are it cannot beconie a queftion,
which of them (hall moft pleafe a critical au^
dience ? the one will have no other clew but
the poet, who, ^ ,though excellent in his art,
from being confined to a point of timjp, could
not give fuch a whole lengfh vipw of that
courageous, fplendid, yet lafcivious defpot;
whilft the other, taking in all the parts
c£ his character from the hiftorian, as well
as the poet^ is not only capable of draw-
ing a ftronger outline, but adding thofe nicer
touches which give manner and finiih to the
pi dure.

As an appendage to hiftory, it will be nc^
ceflary to be acquainted with fuch books as
inftru<ft in the.antient and modern dr.effes, as
well as religious ceremonies, triiimphs, ova-
tions, procellions^ &c. for though thefe mat-
• ters may be thought peculiarly the nianager's
province, the knowledge of them are of very

grcaj

great ufe to the performer* A man who has nd
previous idea of a Roman habit, or Roman pro-
ceffion, cannot be ealily reconciled to the oiie,
or inftrudted in' the other ; whereas, by know-
ing their ufes from reading, that the one was
conformable to the public and domeftic exer-
cifes; the other to the emulative and warlike
fpirit of that people, he will not only find
himfelf more at eafe, but feel all the pro-
priety and force of their application.

It may be the cafe, that a performer may
be under a manager totally ignorant of fhis
branch of his profeffion, .which fometimes
has happened in capital cities ; very often on
fummer excurfions. This fuperior informa-
tion then muft ftand him in grear ftead, by
having it in his power to accommodate him-
felf in his own performances, as well as hold-
ing out his ufe to the manager, who will be
under the neceffity of proportionally reward-
ing qualifications fo intimately connedled with
his own intereft.

This knowledge may be coUeded in going
through a courfe of hiftory ; but the books
we would particularly recommend, are
^5 Strutt's view of the manners, Cuftoms, ha- *\
bits, &c, of the Engliih, Ferrario De Re I
Veftiaria, Montfaucon, , Potter's Greek, and I
Rennet's Roman Antiquities/' ^

Tho*

t ^90 ] , .

Tho* we have before aflcrted, that art ac-
quaintance with the Englijh clajtcs may be
fufficient for conduding a performer throwgh
the literary walks of his profeffion, under
this head we beg leave to include, a toler-
able knowledge of the French language* The'
ftatc of Englifh education is indeed at pre-
fent, fo modelled (whether for the better,
or not,, we {hall not here enquire into) a^,
perhaps^ might make this requifition un-
neceflary ; a variety of French phrafes having
crept into our writings and converfatiohs, fo
as to make it* almoft impoffible to read
modern books, or keep modern company,
without being acquainted with both lan-
gu^es. *Tis a player's particular duty^ how-
ever, to know French as well from its being
fo conAantly interlarded in dramatic works,
as the neccflity he may be under of filling a
French chara<3:er; for though we Have no
abfolute Frenchman in our drama, who
fpeaks nothing elfe but his native language,
yet we have many whofe idiom, inaccuracies
and manners muft be tranfplanted into
Englifh.

We fliall conclude this chapter with re-
commending the two polite accomplifhments
oi fencing and dancings as not only ufeful to
give a polifti to general ftudies, but, in this
.profeiEon, abfolutely neceffary. The firft of
thcfe on the French theatre, doe8s.iiOt' feena

thefe

C>9t 1

allogcllief fb neceflary; but on our own,

where battles and murders are conftantly re-

prefented, it mud rank as an indifpenfable

part of theatrical education, or (to fpeak

more properly) theatrical execution. The in-.

troduftion of this barbkrifm we have already

decried, but firtce it is fo ellabliflied that

there is fcarce an Englifti tragedy, but what
has a death before the curtain; furely it is

much more decent for a performer to kill,

and be killed, fecundum artem^ than jobbed

to death after the manner of an aflailination ?

Another ufe in fencing, it gives the grace-
ful and unembarrafled ufe of the fword, as
an appendage to drefs ; and to aflift this the
more, we would recommend the conftant ufe
of it in private as well as in public : this may
feem trifling in theory, but the want of it in
^radtice is readily felt both by the eye and ima-
gination ; ^ it is impoffible we can ever form
the combination of a gentleman where even
fo flight a defed of ornament appears.

Dancing is even Hill more ufeful than fenc-
ing. We do not mean by this thj^t jumble of
Jreaks^ and quick Jleps^ which the vulgar of
moft countries denominate dancing, but that
graceful deportment of the body, in con-
junAion with the eyes, and mufcles of the
face, by which a man may exprefs his
thoughts independent of the articulation of
fyllables, and words; this gives a grace to

every

-t 192 .]

every thing an adlor fays" or does upon the
itage> and 'twas this carried, perhaps, to its
utmoft perfeftion, which; gave riretoaUob-
fervation iatcly made on a celebrated French
dancer,

" T'/S/a/ all her fie ps Werefentimenti'*

We would therefore recommend it to every
performer not to depend on the early know*,
ledge he might have acquired in this art,
and which he might have learned under pro^
vincial mafters, — but to take particular pains
to be inftrufted by fome capital fiage dancer ;
who will pay a greater attention to the de-
portment and grace of his perfon, than par-
ticular fteps. It is not enough, likewife, that
he has once learned under fuch a mafter, he
fhould keep himfelf in frequent pradlice;
nor would it be amifs, to add to it, fome of
tjic other agile exercifes, fuch as vaulting,
wreftling, &c. The body thus educated (if
we may ufe fuch an expreffion) is the more/
readily fitted to perform all its ftage exercifes.
Whether an aftor flies into the arms of his
miftrefs, or kneels at the feet of his fove-
reign, — whether he makes (hort angles, or
takes long ftrides,— whether he fprings from
a throne, or finks on a bed of ftate ; all
fhould be performed with grace, and nature.

Such

[ 193 ]

fuch fpeak the filent language of the foul,
and in thefe inftances, more than fupply the
place of words.

Wh(!reas, on the contrary, how often do
we fee players, otherwife pofleffed of feeling,
and judgenientj for the want of being in-
ftrufted^ in thefe particulars, commit the
moft glaring improprieties ? how often (Jo we
fee them meafure the ftage in a mechanical
long and fhort ftep, like the verfes of the'^-
tients, turn their backs upon the audience in
walk ing and fpeaking-— crofs each other as if
they were joftling on a race-cojirfe, or de-
fcen'd the footfteps of a throne, like. a com-
mon ftair-cafe. In fliort, perform all the
evolutions of the ftage fo awkwardly, as to
diflblve the charm of illufion, and, in fpit«
of the powers of the poet, turn, perhaps j the-
whole fcene into an ill timed but unavoidable
ridicule. . ' "

O

CHAP,

i 194 ]

CHAP. XXIV. *

Continuation of the fame SuijeB.

I

THESE fundamental inftruAions being
laid down ^ — to call them into pradice,
as well as to recommend others dependent
on them, fhall be the bufinefs of this
chapter.

It is an obfervation of Frefnoy's on paint-
ipg, which is an art by no means irrelative
to acting, that the pupil who would wifh to
^o lengths in his profeffion, jbould do fome^
thih^ every day. We would recommend the
iame advice to an aidtor; for, whether he has
a particular part to ftudy or not,, this con-
ftant cxercife will make his profeffion light
to him > it will enlarge his views, perfedi his
memory, and what perhaps ftiould be as
much attended to as any, keep him from,
diflipation, that bane of theatrical mariners.

In his courfe of reading, he fhould be
particularly attentive to read loud, and di/linSf,
and upon no account whatfoever to hum over
his part, as is the too conftant pradHce. By
his keeping his voice thus upon the ftretch,
he will be enabled to know the whole of its-

compafs.

f »95 1

compaft, flrengthen its wealcnefTes, modu-
late its tones 1 and, in Ihort, by degrees,
tring it under fuch abfolute fubje^ion, as tp
make his duty pn the ftage, and in the clofet
equally eafy.

He muft attend to the fame pradice at re-
hearfals ; and further, fcarcely abate an article
of adion, or emphafis there. Every qik ac-
q[uainted with modern rehearfals, muft know
how loofely, and how much under the paj" of
their abilities the generality of performers gp
through their parts, and .except it is a capiitaj
adtor, or adrefs^ that has a new o^e to gei ftu-
died in, the reft are little bettej than a t/bea^
tricaj mujler^ who are called together to be
!n readinefs for the night's review, jyiihput
Jittle more preparatiori jhacn theii- bve ap-
pearances.

It is a faying almoft in every body*^ mouth
on the firft night of a new, px revived play,
Jf there fhould .appear any little lapfes oi
memory, or inaccgr^igies in ja^ng, ^' That
when -the performers gre more pra^ifed they
will do better/* — There is more indul^enc^
than neceiiary perhaps in this remark^w^why
not equally, pr at leaft nearly as perfeft th^
firft night, as the fourth, fifth, or i^^th ?
did the performers go through the minutfefe of
their feveral parts at. rehearfal, as bejore an
audience^ and repeat them as often, as ne^

Oz ' ccfJary,

{ 196 ]

ceffary, the firft night would be as piuch a
night of perfedtion as any other ; for to per-
fbns much accuftomed to the ftage, the im-
preflion of an audience can make little or
no difference. Befides, what makes the
blunders of a firft. night, is not fo much the
want of memory, as of that mutual play of
aciion which is neceflary to give grace, and
wholenefs to the fcene. Performers too fre-
quently looking on this as a mere thing of
courfe, negledt it at rehearfals, confequently,
when they come before the view of an audi-
ence, they go through it with an air of
novelty i and embarraffmenty often difagree-
able in its confequences to themfelves, but
much more fo to the poet, who, perhaps,
has many years labour on the iffue.

Being Jludied in one anothers aftion, and
manner, particularly in love fcenes, &c.
where a more intimate connexion is. ne-
ceflary, performers are not only left at liberty
to animate each fpeech as it ihould be, but to
prefent a pidure to the audience gracefully
conformable to all the rules of variety, ami
relief. We have a capital ador and adrefs *
in our recoUedion, now on the ftage, w-ho
abftraded from their other excellencies, play
to each others graces fo agreeably^ that 'tis

equally

* Mr. and Mrs. Barry.

f 797 ]
• t^iially difficult, at any time, to furprizc

them in ' an inelegant attitude, as it is to

arraign their judgement, feeling, or expref-

*fion.

But to return— after an ador has read fufw
'ficiently, it will be neceflary to put this
reading into practice, by going, over fbmc of
the principal paflages before a large mirror
-where he can fee his whole figure ; as was
the cuftom of feveral of the antient orators.
This view of his perfon will teach him to
adopt fuch expreffion of features, and ac-
companyments of action, as are moft con-
formable to h;s charadler. It will by degrees,
!ikewife remove, or correft, at leaft, thofe
little imperfedflons of nature, and early
acquired habits which have nearly the fame
ftubbornnefs. Demofthenes being in this re-
fped, a ftanding inftance to reproach the
indolent, as a glorious example to the induf-
trkus.

In this reflected ftudy of himfelf, he
fliould take no other after for his model,
however high he might ftand on the fcale
of dramatic excellence, except he, at the
fame time, conceives the part alike ; other-
wife, the imitation would be as dangerous as
a paintef copying any of the great mafters,
without being himfelf acquainted with the

O 3 laws

t ^9? ]

laws of exprcflion^ and raufcular iCotioa^
In the extremity of the fame line, let cvefy
fpccics of mimickry be avoided % an ^rt, how-
ever, it might tickle the ears of low malice,
©r now and then force an involuntary appro-
bation from the judicious-**'is difgraceful to • j
any theatre. It is falfe in Its principles, in-
Human in its eifeds, and fatal to the aftor
who ufes it, as who can be prad:ifed in the
line of right, who is every hour in the ftudy
of other people's defeds ?.

We ihall not here point out, that im-
menfe variety of accents of. which the voice
is fufceptible, and which ought to be enn{*«
ployed oh different occafions, in order to do
juftice to the vaft crowd of fentiments that
arife in the courfe of theatrical ftudies. Wc
are persuaded, it is impoffiblc to write upori
this fubjedl, fo as to leave nothing unfaid
that may illuftrate it, at the fame time^ fuch
particulars as we may fay^ would, perhaps,
be equally impoffible to praftife. Nature in
•forming mankind fcldom throws even the
moft minute parts of two different m6n into
the fame mould. We find it very rare, that
two faces have a ftrong refemblance of each
other, but it, perhaps, never happened, that
they could not be diftinguiflied. On the fame
^i}c of furprifing variety we may obferve^

that

C 199 1

that the voices of nen never e^wSfly ifefetiihte
one another. How then, can one iniagine
himfelf capable to mark out the different
turns, and cadences^ peculiar to (o many
men, each of whom has a different voice
adapted to his own particular genius, and im-
mediately under its direftion ?

ASiion lies under the fame difficulties, and
as we have before obfervcd, attempting to
give particular rules for it, would be ufelefs
as impoflible 5 an a<ftor has therefore only to
poffefs himfelf of the enthufiafm of his fubjcft,
confult nature, and endeavour to imitate hef •
In this imitation, however, he (hould not
make too fsrvilc a copy, bat heighten or
deprefs, in common with painters, fuch of
her works as may be moft conducive to his
art, and the embelliihment of fta^e effedt.
In (hort, if a player fliall fo iz^Sf, as to per-
fuade us the characters he reprcfents are not
Jidittious^ the illufion then becomes complete,
ttU that is faid is felt^ and every thing paffcs
for the trutJ> of aBiorty and t^ language cj
thefouL

However, as 'tis neceflary for an aftor to
acquire all the affiflances he can from art^
compatible with the nature of his profefiion,
we would recommend him to be well ftudied
in fome of the moft celebrated Greek and Ro*
man (latues, geHcs, bafts, &c« which he may

P 4 readily

[ zoo ]

^readily have an opportunity of doing, by fre-
quenting the Royal Academy, or the Gal-
lery of hi& Grace the Dute of Richmond ;
a nobleman, who has, upon the moft liberal
plan of patriotifm, extended it even to the
polifli, and refinenient of the public tafte,
and to whom this country is indebted for the
foundation of a ScAooI of Statuary *, at a
period when the arts were without a royal
prote6tor, -

Thofe we would particularly recommend

are as follow :

For the Men.

The two Antinoules.
The Hercules Farnefe.
The Apollo Belvidere.
The Apollo De Medicis.
The Caracalla.
The fighting, apd

Dying Gladiatprs.

For

* When the Duke of Richmond was on his travels I^ the
year 1755 ; paffing through Florence, he purchafed-the whole
fchool 6f Michael Angclo, in Plaiflcr of Paris-Cafts, at a
very confiderable expence, with which, and other antiques, &c.
that he brought with him to England; he opened a gallery
^t his houfe in Whitehall, for the inftru£lion of young artifts,
tp whom he annually beftows two medals for the beft model.
'I'his gallery was opened fome years, previous to the eftablilh-
jtient of the Royal Academy, and continues to be the refort of
^e cufIoosi ^•ho ^epermitjed to fe^ it withput any expcncc
whatfocver.

I ,201 ]

* For the Women. ' . -

. The Venus De Medicis*

The Venus Dc CalipaBdia. . : . ■
Diana. ^
Flora, and
The Graces,

Vi'^'e have feleftcd the above as fome of
the in oft perfect of their kind, in their various
«xpreffions* Being, therefore, fufficiently
ftudied in them, fo as to adopt their feveral
attitudes with eafe, as well as to be acquaint-
ed with the juftnefs and truth, of their prin-
ciples, a performer cannot readily miftake'
their fubordinate combinations. In fhort,
that infleicion of body, and compofition of
limbs, fo as not to encumber each other, or
appear divided by (harp, and fudden artgles,
form the whole of grace^ arid give that Je
nefai quou fo much admired in the whole
deportment of aftion .

As 'tis afliduity that, for the moft part,
conquers a profeflion, no attention fhould be
wanting in a performer .who afpires to excel
in that department of ading, his genius and
inclination lead him to. On this principle
then, it fliould be his conftant care to abfent
hinifelf as feldom aspoffible from the theatre,
on fuch nights that he; does not perform; but

Icarcely

[ ^" J

{czrccTy on any account whatfocver, on
thofe when his/uperior in the fame caft of
parts, performs. We know how difficult it
is to have this phrafe allowed, on account of ^
that envy which in gentftral pervades fimilar
departments of profeffion ; but taking it for
granted, that the voice of the town, and the
cledtion of the managers^ . (who we believe
every player will ^Uowinow their own inter eji)
give a juft prefererjceto an afibor's abilities ; in
fuch a cafe^ it becomes the indifpenfabk duty
of an inferior in the fame cafl^ to makd
hiidi obfervatioQS on the voice, attitudes, and
judgement of his fuperior — imitate what he
approves of by thofe ftandards of judging wc
have already laid down, and rejed; what he
difapprove^ of on the fame fcalc* This
fpirit of emulation then, is the fureft method
of lowering a rival*s perfedtions — by rifing
above them ; it is at the fame time, gene-
rous, manly, and ufeful, — and ferves in in-
finitely better llead than thofe impotent carp^
ings, and underhand fianden^ which (tho*^
the not unufual buz of a green-room) arc
ever conftrued by men of underftanding, to
be no more than the neceffary taxes on the
other's genius.

The late Mr. Powel, one of the joint
Patentees of Covent-Garden theatre, who,,

whateyer

t ^2<^3 ]
^lliatcver his theatrkal defedfi wete, could ]
not be charged with either difincUnation et
indttifition t6 his profeffiorii was very laudably
{>atti[cular ia this. We have known him
come from J^iftol to London, in the vety
height of the theatrical feafbn, and whenu
he c6uld be very ill fparcd, to fee Mr. Barry
perform King L^ar*, hit candonr in {ptak^
ing of this celebrated performer afterwards^
did him as much hoxtour ats his induflry^ fot
beiikg aiked bow he liked him^ he an^
^wered, «' So well^ that after having gained
his escperlence, if I can equal him^ I (hall bt
content."

We have hitherto but gkiiced at the bene«
fits arifing from a good memory, we Chali
now be a little more particular in ipeaking
of this fubjea:. Tho' this quality is uijelul
in all the liberal, ^is well as mechanita!
prdfefiions^ it perhaps ferves a player in
more ftead than any ; for tbo' the mere me-
mory does not include every other excel«-
lence^ 'till this is obtained, th^sre can be no
foundation laid for any. He^ who does not
|)erfe(5tly remember what he has to fay, an
vain knows Jbow he fhould fpeak it> and pre-
pofterous as 'tis^ to fuppofe a perfon can
play a part bccaufe he has it by rote» it is
jDOt more fo^ than to imagine the moft emi«-

nent

[ 204 3
nent player could go through it tolerably
who had it not. .

. We are generally pleafed with- the ading
Biore than the reading of a play, why ? be-
caufe the illufion is more kept up in the
former than the latter, and this illufion is
principally fupported by ' the words being
remembered perfectly. He who has often
played a charafter, is quite eafy as to the
>vords, confequently has^ one principal in-
cumbrance off his mind, his attention then
can be cSirried with dou^blc force to his
feelings,, and deportment ; and hence he
generally fucceods. In fliort, the firft ftep
towards throwing! off a mans felf'itf any
tharadler is, the advantage he derives
from recoUeAion, — elfe he every wheije
feels himfelf the />/^fr rather than thieV/Siz-
raSiefi not fwelling with the paflions of
" a hero, or melting with the pathos of a
lover, but dreading the lapfes of his
liiemory.

GoulS an.adior but for a moment on this
occafion, transform himfelf into an auditor,
h^ would fee the deception of the fcene fp
much broken in upon, and the glaring ab-
furdity of being prompted in the pajions^
that probably fuch a view of himfelf would
be the heft means of reforming him in this
► • particular.

[ 2t)5 ]

particular, -—he would then confider me*
mory not only as the ftorehoufe of word€>
bat as the great foarce'froni whence he was
to draw rhucbof the beautiful, and fublime
in his i profeffion, ' and ^kclaiming with
Chuit:hill, t . ..

Would *• hate thofe carelefs blunders whicfc
recall '

*

Sufpehded fenfe, and prove it fidlion alh"

There is one thing inore relative to me-
mory^ on which the truth of reprefentatioa
in a great meafure depends, and that is the
great neceflity there is for a performer to re-

niembcr t\xt fubjlance of, every other peribns
p^rt, (particularly tbofe in the.fagie fcenes

.with, himfelf) as well as ' the wards of his
own. This m^y fecwi like laying too heavy
a burden oi> an ^d:or, but the mode we have
laid down in the preceding chapter, re-
fpedting an intimate and early acquaintance
with the dramatic clafficsy will make this
labour fo light, that a fingle reading of the
play, when^ a part comes to be ftudied, in all
probability will be fufficient ; for he will be

a young a£tor as long as he lives, who fol-
lows the young a<ftor's practice of knowing

when

^ *

when He \% to ipeakj only by «he ^ords cjT

" I admit jch^ force of thb rcafoiii*
iftg, fay$ an aftor, afld very deadly fee the

advantages of meiDiQjry, ^ but unfor*-

tunately for me I have the wor^: ^udy Ih
the world." This is perhaps nine times in
ten the voke of idlenefs t we , i-eadily graut^ij
there are diftinftions in memory j infb-
mttch, that what fhaU be one player's
amufement fhall be another's drudgery ;

bjut thi# 1% in a |;reat jmeafiice, if not r?idi-
callyi to be cured by frequejnt exejdfci^
Let the player who has this defed not
nieafure himfelf by the man wjbio happens
to have a good memory, elfe every fufplus
hour which he .gives tip to it-r*hc wiU be
tempted to call a faorific?e, btrt oh tfee eoii-r
trary, redouble his diligeisce m gain iaft
equality. l*et him, for inftafiice, beftdw
fvtch time and attention on ^ geii^Hrat
ftudy of the ftage, as gre neceCTary to mdke
liim comf>lete mailer of it. Let hW> 'V^
thofe particular parts he is in pofleffion of,
}ay out a larger portion oi Ms time thaa
ethers, and give hiBifelf tai^^ proporticiaed
to his gradual ifuprovement. AU our facul'^
ilies grow ftronger by exercife, .^ad the me*
foory perhaps miwe than any. He, thd^re^
fere;, that complains of the want of this,

complains
z

f

I 207 ]

complains only of his want of induftrjr^
ibr though it might lie a little farther out
of his reach than anot^r's, let him but
exert himfelf fudiciently, and he acquires
it*

I

CHAP,

I

[ 208 ]

C H A P. XXV.:

Conclusion.

WE have now gone thro' all the principal
parts of education which we think
ncceffary for forming an ador, who would
look forward to the heights of his profeffion,
and wi(h to know it upon certain and liberal

principles. We cannot clofe this fubjed:, how-
ever, without adding fome obfcrvations which
more immediately refped: his private life and
converfation*

We are previoufly aware, how divided the
private and public characters of .all men,
fliould be on account of the great difficulty of
thoroughly knowing the former, as well as its
general inapplication when known. With this
reftridion then before us, we (hall only touch
upon fuch parts of the one as influence the
other, leaving the reft to that tribunal, where
each man's adions fhould be referred, (except
fuch as come under the cognizance of the
magiftrate) — his own confcience.

Though the player, in fome . refped, like
an Engli(]b king, may be thought reftramed
^^ from doing wrongs' feeing that lie is not at
liberty to alter, or amend the v/crds of the

poet.

^oeti yet the grace and 4>ath6s, dignity and
deportment with whith-he conveys them^
give them force and meaning. An a^dtoi"
Ihould glow with the famfe fire that infpires
his author> and likt a friendly and judicious
critic, heighten by the comment of his judge-'
merit and feelingfe, ■ thofe paflag^s which are
written tocoAvey iivftrUd:i6n to art audience.
But how are thefe to be attained ? not merety
by the rules we haVe already laid down in the
preceding chapter * however thefe tnay affift^
they are not altogether-fufficient. How then ?
why, by firft feeling the influence andpropricty
oiwrtue in his own bteaft^ (without which, he
will proportionably ^)vant force in tommuni-
eating it) by mixing with the moft polite and
intelligent company within his reach, keep-*
ing his abilities upon the conftant ftretch ;
and, in ihort, poffefling himfelf of that enthu-
fiafm, which confiders nothing arduous, no-
thing too dearly purchafed which redounds tp
implrovemcnt, and the dignity of profeffion.

The theatre has long been coAfidered, by the
generality of the world, (and we fear with too
much jiiftice) as being far from the moji perfeSi
Jchoolof virtue. Without defcending to parti-'
culars, thus much we aflert, that the more a
performer, by his life and converfation, contri-
butes to fupport this general charadSier, (ab-

/ P flraftcd

C 2i<^ ]

ftra£bed from codfidering it in a moral fenfc)
the nK>re he lays a clog Upon his abilities, and
throws aft impediment ito his purfuits. A dif-
fipatedman, has many dt^awbacka onhista^
lents^ he proftitiites his tittle^ blupts his fa-
culties^ and impairs his conftitution. If thefe
are general barriers, then , to fuccefs, how
much more fo tp theatricdfame ? a miftrefs
of that coy and particular temper, who de-
mands a facrifice to the graces as well as the
arts, and who, previous to the furrender of
her charms^ will fcarc^ abate an {^rticle iti
either.

A good moral character has even other ad-
vantages, which, firidtly fpeaking, it lias no
right to, according to the principles of art ;
it often fecures a performer of very moderate
abilities, the countenance, prote<^on, and
efleem of the audience. It is in tl^e recollec-
tion of all thofe who have been in the leaft in«
timate with the ftftge, that fome who have
lately quitted it, either by death, or reiigna-
tion, and others now on it, ate examples of
this kind ; for fuch is the powerful force of
virtue, independent of its particular influ-
ence on. the mind of the poflfeiTor, it raifes a^d-
mirers in every clime ', nor has any body of
people, perhaps, ever been fo abfolutely de-.
bauched, but what they have paid this cotp-
jpliment to her fhrine, except where their par-
ticular

[ 211 ]

ticular intdrefts with-held thein. Hear this
then, ye Ions and daughters of the ftage ! and
fee how neceflary it is, even in a political light,
to extend fbme regards to a good private cha^
roBer. Let not the force of example on the
one fide, nor the ftigmas of ignorance on the
other, miflead you i ** a good name in man or
woman, is the immediate jewel of their
fouls :'* this gives the profeflion of a player
dignity and refpeft, whilft the want of it co-
ders a churchman with difgrace.

Though much refts with a performer,
in avoiding a life of diffipation, there
is one article of managerial arrangement^
which has, in a great meafure, contributed
to it ; and that is, the ejiablijhment of benefit
jtigffts. This cuftom, we believe, originated
about the beginning of this century, andwas,
at firft, only meant as a compliment to capital
performers, to reward them after the fatigues
of tjie feafon ; by degrees it grew more general,
and probably the managers feeing that, on
thofe nights, there was the particular inte-
reft of the player joined to the accidental pro-
fits of tl>e night, they adopted it as a {landing
rule of th^ theatre, to take the beft pf the fea-
fon for themfelves, and parcel out the re-
mainder amongft the performers^ according
to rank, fometimes according to favouritifm.
The players (particularly thofe under the firft
^Jafs) being under this predicapent, curtailed

P 2 ia

I 212 ]

in their weekly falarics, and forced to ttiike
theni up, by endeavourjng for good bencT
fits, were obliged to make as univerfal an
acquaintance as they could. In this acquain-
tance, they were not only le^ into expences^
but into many errqrs and diffipations. Undey
the expe(Station oi annual favours , 'tis not aU
ways thataman otherwifeindependentproperly
fupports his charafter, how much Iqfs a pian,
whom the principal exiftepce of himfelf and
family too ofteQ depend upon them ; in fhort,
this arrangement opened the door to many bad
habits. Benefit huniingy became,. in time, moyc
attended to than the real duties of the profeff
(ion ; and the fame pains that a performer
often took to qualify himfelf for a bon^ vivant^
would have made him an ornament to the
ft age.

This cuftom ftill continues j but as Shakef-
peare fays, on another qccafion, "it is a cuf-
tom would be more honqurqd m the breacfy
than in the performance^'

There is another article that refts with
the managers, which, if put on its for^
mer footing, would, in our opinion, con-
tribute, if not to the morals, at leaft to the
polilh and refinement of the theatre; what
we allude to, is permitting a feled number of
gentlemen behind the fcenes. We are aware
of the indifcriminate ufe of this permiffion,

-k • .1-.. •.«■ .» •

r

t ^n 1

and of the many dift&fbances and improprle-^
tics , it has occafionaUy introduced j but if 4
certain number of Tubicribers were only per-
mitted *by rotation, or any number of men
of falhibn, who would not encumber the bu-
finefs of the fceqes, we are pofitive fome fuch
regulation would have peculiar benefits.

Formerly, when this indulgence was fpar-
' ingly ufed, it had a good efFedt, as many per-
formers, who probably had few other oppor-
-tunkies of mingling with men of fafliion,
-and bbferving on their manners and deportment^
t:aught that habitual eafe and breeding which
theory can never alone inculcate ; this inter-
courfe very often extended beyond the Green
Room; and thofe players^ who had it in
their power to recommend themfelves by
their private behaviour, formed many valu^
able and ufeful acquaintances*

For though the quicknefg of familiar con-
verfation will not admit of an attention to that
accuracy which is required in ftudy, yet there
are in thofe intcrcourfes, a certain fuperipr
fpirit, and genuine eloquence, which, per-
haps, are a better help to the improvement
of ftyle, and a more enlivening model for
imitation, than the united efforts of the clo-
.fet* Thofe happy, turns, and emphatical
Uprightly phrafes, which are ftruck out t)y
the collifion of aniniated converfation, and

that

I ^14 1

that graceful digmtv of manner which are
pGcuUar XQ thofc who move in the higjlt^r
fphtres of life, will guch the attention <^
him who is familiarly ^ccnftomcd to theiiit
and infenfibily become hi/» own ; fori ^ our
&nies naturally retain the print of images
commonly .preiented to ihom»; To oqr languflig?
fjid behaviour, ahnoft unavoidaUy, take a
tin^ure from thofe with whom wc ufqally
conyerfiu

To this Wilkes, the celebrated comedian^
(that firil rate mode} pf his time for theatrical
idegance afi4 breeding) was principally indebti?
cd ; for as no player, perhaps, ever lived more
amongft gentlemen of the firfl rank, ib no man
was ever lefs the player on the ftage. To the
many teflioioniesleft us of this, we Ihalladd
that of a gen^emaa lately dead, who has
ever been conddered by his acquaintance, nq
iefs a critic in tl>e ban-tm than the world of
letters; from this gentleman, we were in**
formed, that whatever Wilkes (iid on the
ilage, let it be never fo trifling, whether it
confifted in putting on his gloves, or taking
out his watch, - lolling on his cane, or taking
Ihuff, every thing was marked with fuch an eaib
of breeding and manner ; every thing told iq
ftrongly the involuntary motion of a gentle-
maOj that it was inipoffible to ponfider the

cha?

t ^n 1

eKaradcr he rejJiiafeixted in aAy otker light
thtA ^t of a toaliiy^

It m?iy now, perhaps^ be thought, thai in
thejGb Uiftru6Uan$y we have defended tuto
too many minute particulars a hiM: it muA b^
remjemberedt that 'tis by a combination of
thefe, perfeftion is to be acquired ; for fo va-
rious and petite are the qualifications of* an ac-
tor, that the fmalleft omiffion, in fome re-
fpeft, deranges the bufinefs of the moft impaf-
fioned fcenes ; whereas, on the contrary, it is
by a minute and univerfal knowledge of any
profeffion, names arclifted into notice, and bear
the ftamp of excellence : it was the confciouf-
nefs of this made Michael Angelo exclaim,
(upon one of his pupils wondering how a
few touches he had given a ftatue of his,
could make fo furprifing a change) ^* how-
ever flight, thefe touches may appear, fuch
make the' difference between you and Michael
Angelo,"

We have now reached the limits of this
treatife, in which, willing as we were to be
as diffufe as poffible, we are fenfible of
omitting many other minutiae of theatrical
education; not that they have efcaped us,
but on account of the difficulty, indeed the
impoffibility of committing them lingly,

and

arid witE JBL precifion capable of beiiig fol-*
lowed on paper* In thefe inftances^ Shakef-^
peare gives the tule ; ** Let your own dif-
cretion b^your tutor;" ^nd the player, whd
wants this for his guide, will look for ad-»
vice in vain on the moil crowded fcale of
written inftrudions. V

V- .*

^■« -*^-'' *

F J jsr I s.

X